Daughter of the Snake
by kyaxskyxgoddess
Summary: PostHBP: spoilers. NonDeathly Hallows compliant. Hermione, an auror, makes one drunken mistake and finds herself on a new path towards love, adventure, and the discovery of her true heritage. HGSS with a little HGHP
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own shit, and most definitely not Harry Potter or any HP characters. So, sorry, I can't take all that money I know you want to give me. Dammit.

New story! Now with previews!

Chapter One

XXX Hermione stood atop a dark hill. She wasn't alone, she knew that, but who she was with she was not sure. There was Harry, and Ron lay in a puddle of…blood? And then there was a figure, a figure that filled Hermione with dread, pure terror and bile building in her mouth as adrenaline pumped through her veins, making her body shake. She clutched her stomach and screamed–XXX

Hermione jerked upright in bed, shaking hands clenched over her mouth, body drenched in a cold sweat. Harsh screams that she refused to voice tore at her throat as tears ran down her cheeks. The urge to set the screams loose was almost unbearable to resist, but Hermione refused to let her basic instincts get the best of her. It was _her_ body, dammit, and she _would_ control it!

After a few moments Hermione felt able to control herself. She relaxed her stiff back and removed her hands from her lips, noticing absently as she rubbed her cheeks with delicate fingertips that she had dug tiny crescent-moons into her own flesh with her nails. Still shaking slightly, Hermione carefully got out of bed and walked towards the half-closed door across the room.

The tiny bathroom held only a cramped shower, a toilet, and a dingy (though immaculately clean) sink. Hermione bathed her face in cold water, washing away the tears and, to some extent, the lingering dream. _It wouldn't be so bad_, Hermione thought to herself, _If it weren't happening so frequently lately. If it were only every now and then I'm sure I'd be able to cope better._ Unfortunately, it _was_ happening frequently; the nightmare which had haunted Hermione ever since the night of her seventeenth birthday over three years ago was occurring three times a week now, more frequently than ever before.

What was worse, the dreams were stronger now too. The first time she had ever experienced the dream, Hermione had been shocked and frightened, but hadn't felt the same stomach-wrenching terror she now experienced on a nearly daily basis. Furthermore, once she had awoken from the dream it was hopeless to try to go back to sleep that same night. Sleep was too elusive.

Glancing at her muggle alarm clock, Hermione saw that it was now a little past 3:00, October 30th, 2000. _Great_, she thought wryly to herself, _I'm awake three hours earlier than I need to be for work. Now what?_ Sighing, she returned to her small bedroom and scanned her bookshelves for something to read. "I need to buy more books," she murmured quietly, looking over the nearly 200 books she owned which she had already read, some of them several times. Crookshanks, who regarded her from her bed, yowled his agreement. Choosing a textbook on potions she liked, Hermione settled into her reading chair and dove into the book, intent on distracting herself for the next three hours before readying for work.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"Hermione!"

Hermione jumped, eyes flying open as she came out of her light doze. "Sorry, what?" She mumbled confusedly, trying to organize the papers on her desk and remember what she had been doing.

"I just wanted to ask if you were alright. You've been awfully tired lately." Harry leaned against the doorframe, gazing into her office with a puzzled look in his eyes. "Have you been getting enough sleep? It's dangerous to be too tired these days."

'These days' meaning wartime. With Voldemort still roaming the country at large all aurors had to constantly be ready to spring into action. While Voldemort rarely showed himself in public lately, one never knew when a Death Eater attack might pop up. Almost four years after the death of Dumbledore, few places were truly safe, even Hogwarts.

"I'm okay, I've just been having some bad dreams," Hermione's brow furrowed in irritation. Now the blasted nightmares were interfering with work too! "I'll be alright if I can get some rest." Seeing Harry still lurking self-consciously in the doorway, Hermione gestured him forward. "Come in, I could do with some company."

Harry strolled in, taking the seat across from Hermione's cluttered desk. He had grown tall and rangy over the years, his natural slenderness combining with his acquired muscles to give him a lean, well-toned look. His jaw was set more sternly than it had been in childhood, and worry was creating a crease between his brows at the tender age of twenty. He smiled wryly at the papers piled haphazardly over the desk, kept company by a tiny grinning pumpkin, Hermione's only attempt at Halloween decoration.

"Even the Great Book Worm can't keep organized these days, hmm?"

Hermione returned his wry smile with one of her own. "Too much paperwork to file from all the attacks. I'm sure I'd be afraid to look at _your_ desk."

"My desk, _I'm_ afraid to go into my _office_! There's parchment everywhere!" Harry almost laughed, but not quite. Nor did his smile quite reach his bottle-green eyes, which held only a look of tense strain. Hermione knew that the same look must be in her own eyes. Lately everyone she knew had lost the ability to completely enjoy anything, even friendly conversation.

"Well, if you spent more time at your bloody desk, instead of mine, maybe you would have some of it filed by now," Hermione sniffed primly, smiling to make it clear that she was joking. "So, what brings you here today? Any raids?"

Harry shook his head no. "Actually, Ron has invited us to go out for drinks tonight with him and Lavender. I think they've gotten engaged or something, he's been hinting about proposing for a while now. Wanna come?"

"Why not," Hermione shrugged. "Nothing better to do. But you do realize we'll be drinking, most likely getting drunk, on a Monday, right?"

"Not just any Monday," Harry shook his finger at her in admonishment. "Do you realize what tonight is? Besides the day before Halloween of course," At Hermione's blank look he shook his head and clucked his tongue in disappointment. "And you call yourself a bookworm. It's the day before Samhain! At midnight tonight it'll be a holy magical day, not to mention the magical new year!"

"First of all," Hermione began snobbily. "_You_ call me a bookworm, I have never used that term to label myself. Second of all, Samhain is a pagan holiday, and the mainstream wizarding population hasn't practiced any of the pagan holidays since Christianity was introduced to and became prevalent among most Europeans. Not to mention the only way that Samhain would be even remotely important to me would be if I intended to _try_ to communicate with the dead tonight, which I have absolutely no intention of doing."

"There's the bookworm we know and love," Harry tugged a frizzy lock of hair teasingly. "Either way, Ron's probably gotten engaged and it's an excuse to get smashed."

Hermione shrugged again. "Whatever, like I said, I've got nothing better to do. I do not, however, intend to get smashed."

Hermione vaguely remembered those words several hours and many pints later. Blinking blearily at her friends, she opened her mouth to say something, then realizing she had no idea what she meant to say, closed it. Remembering, she opened it again.

"May you have the best of happiness!" She slurred, lifting her glass of ale in Ron and Lavender's general direction. "And may you have many red-haired children!" She giggled and burped quietly. "I can't remember the last time I drank this much," she murmured to Harry.

"I can't remember the last time I saw you drink at all," he sipped his own drink, slurring even more than Hermione.

"We have to keep our wits about us these days," Hermione gazed into her drink gloomily. Mind functioning for only a moment, she glanced up. "What time is it?"

Harry checked his wristwatch as Ron and Lavender exchanged a tender kiss. "About 11:30. Why?"

"I should get home, we have work tomorrow," Hermione moved to rise, but tripped over her own feet and stumbled into Ron. Giggling, Hermione apologized half-heartedly. "I guess I'm too drunk to apparate," she announced, almost proudly.

"I'll walk you home," Harry rose only slightly more gracefully than she had. "Drunk girls shouldn't walk around alone at night."

"Hey, I'm a trained auror!" Hermione declared fiercely. "I can fight just fine on my own!"

"Hermione," Harry slurred matter-of-factly. "You can't even walk straight. I don't think you'd have much luck locating your wand right now."

Since there was no way to refute this logic, Hermione found herself bidding the happy couple farewell and stumbling away from the Leaky Cauldron with Harry's arm around her waist. They supported each other almost equally, nearly falling several times when one of them swerved too far in any direction. Luckily enough, Hermione kept a small flat not too far from Diagon Alley, so they didn't have far to walk.

Thanks to low auror's wages the apartment was small and fairly cramped. Although Hermione kept it exceedingly clean and neat, years of grime made everything slightly grey. It was still a fairly comfortable home, however, which Hermione appreciated. Once they had stumbled up the single flight of stairs to her home, Hermione struggled to unlock the door before all but falling into the small living area and collapsing onto her squishy red couch. Harry lurked in the still open doorway for a moment, uncertain of what to do.

"You're too drunk to walk home alone," Hermione announced. "You live too far away. Come stay on my couch."

"Okay," Harry shrugged before closing the door and following her onto the couch.

"Unh, I don't feel like moving," Hermione groaned, shifting to give Harry some space on the couch.

"That's fine, we both fit," Harry pulled off his shoes and robes, laying them carefully on the floor nearby. His glasses went on the coffee table and he began to unbutton his shirt.

"Are you stripping?" Hermione mumbled lazily, giggling tipsily.

"Is it okay for me to sleep in my boxers?" Harry paused in his undressing. "It's what I usually do."

"Whatever makes you comfortable," Hermione leaned back, closing her eyes sleepily. A few moments later Harry was nudging her with his feet as he lay down, pulling the small blanket she kept on the couch over himself. "Can I lie down next to you? My room seems so far away," Hermione complained. Harry nodded sleepily. Hermione pulled off her robes and kicked off her shoes before lying down beside him, cuddling up to his warm form. "You're warm," she murmured.

"Body heat," Harry agreed.

"That's kind of nice," Hermione shifted so that she was facing him. She had never been this close to Harry in any situation resembling this one before, and was startled to find that she felt very comfortable. Hermione was rarely comfortable being close to anyone, even men she had dated in the past. But at that moment, Hermione felt closer to Harry than she had ever felt to anyone before. "Do you mind..." she trailed off as she held a finger close to Harry's scar. He shook his head.

Gently tracing the upraised mark, Hermione found herself engrossed in the feeling of his skin. Her hand trailed away from the scar to caress his forehead and she briefly ran her fingers through his dark, messy locks. Then her hand traveled down his face, running over his straight nose and firm cheeks, which were only slightly scratchy with stubble. One finger ran across his lips, finding them oddly soft after the scratchiness of his cheeks and chin.

"You have nice lips," Hermione murmured, before leaning in and brushing her own lips against them. Liking the feeling, she kissed him again, then again, deeper this time. She didn't notice the clock on her wall hitting midnight and Samhain.

That was the last thing that Hermione remembered when she woke up the next morning completely naked on her own couch, spooning with an equally naked Harry Potter.

"Oh fuck." Was all she could say.

TBC...

Preview:

"Harry Potter, don't you even think about telling Ginny about this! I will not allow you to destroy things with that girl just because of one idiotic mistake. Last night will be between the two of us and Ginny never needs to find out. Harry, I know how honorable you are, but last night was not important enough to jeopardize your and Ginny's future happiness. You have to let it go."


	2. Chapter 2

Hey everybody, I have no idea when I last updated this story, but I know it was like a million years ago. Reasons: I was posting the story on The Petulant Poetess, so I was a little more focused on updating there, and writers block. I have written anything in a few months, but I do have five chapters already finished and up at The Petulant Poetess, so I've decided to upload them here too. Not that I am a second semester senior, my schedual is a little calmer, and I expect that I will be able to update this story fairly frequently. Enjoy!

Thank you to my beta, Dawn.

Chapter Two

Hermione jerked upwards, falling out of the couch. _Oh God, oh God, oh God._ She ran through her bedroom and into the small bathroom, barely making it there in time to retch helplessly into the toilet bowl. She felt unclean, like the worst kind of whore and bad friend. _Oh, Ginny_, she thought in despair. Deciding she wasn't up to dealing with this situation she fell into the shower, dressed, and left for work. Never mind it was hardly six in the morning when she dashed out the door. She trusted Harry to leave her apartment in decent condition.

Since the office wasn't open until eight in the morning, Hermione went to a nearby café to while away the next hour and a half. She gazed despondently into her tea, picking at her blueberry muffin until it was little more than a pile of crumbs. How drunk had she been to do something like that with Harry? How drunk had Harry been to forget Ginny?

The official story from both Harry and Ginny was that they were "on a break" a.k.a. waiting until Voldemort was gone before they could be together. To ensure Ginny's safety Harry had convinced her to hide out in Romania with Charlie until the danger was gone. While neither claimed to be in a serious commitment, it was obvious that they were keeping faithful to one another. Until Hermione had ruined everything, that is.

Pushing her uneaten breakfast away, Hermione set her crossed arms on the table and lowered her head onto them. She had absolutely no clue how she was going to handle this.

Eventually it was time for Hermione to get to work. She strolled slowly from the café to the ministry offices and made her way to the Auror's division.

"Happy Halloween and a Merry Samhain to you!" Declared the cheerful secretary as she walked to her office.

"Sure, why not," Hermione mumbled bleakly.

A little later Hermione was deep into her paperwork when she heard a knock at her open door. Glancing up she saw the one person she had no desire to visit with today. "Harry." She nodded, looking back at her paperwork and continuing to scribble busily.

"Morning," Harry began slowly, watching her carefully. "Mind if I come in?"

Hermione dropped her quill, looked up and gave a large false smile. "Harry, you know you're always welcome in my office. Is something wrong?"

Harry was now looking at her like she had gone mad. "Er, don't you remember what happened last night?"

Hermione maintained her large, overly-bright smile. "Of course I remember last night, Harry. I woke up before you did today. I just don't see any reason for us to discuss it."

"Er, why not?"

"Harry," Hermione began slowly. "When I was a little girl I saw that my uncle, my mother's brother, drank a great deal. When I asked my mother why, or if something was wrong to make him drink so often, she told me that we weren't supposed to talk about it. I asked why. She told me that it isn't nice to talk about unpleasant things and that we should try to talk about something else instead. So, if there's something unpleasant happening, I just don't see why we should be discussing it. It won't solve anything and it's just upsetting."

Harry was now regarding his best friend of ten years like she had just grown another head. "Hermione, I'm pretty sure that's not a healthy attitude. In fact, I read somewhere that supporting an addiction like your uncle's by not acknowledging it can be downright harmful to everyone involved. And you never seemed to mind speaking your mind in the past."

"Harry, I speak my mind when it will solve something. Rehashing the foolishness of last night won't solve anything. What it will do is make us both uncomfortable." Harry knew that Hermione was being ridiculous, but at the same time the idea of avoiding their problems by ignoring them was attractive.

"Fine, we'll never speak of it again. But, Hermione, what about G—"

"Harry Potter, don't you even think about telling Ginny about this," Hermione snapped, dropping her freakishly false smile. "I will not allow you to destroy things with that girl just because of one idiotic mistake. Last night will be between the two of us and Ginny never needs to find out." Harry looked uncomfortable. "Harry, I know how honorable you are, but last night was not important enough to jeopardize your and Ginny's future happiness. You have to let it go."

Harry nodded brusquely, his square jaw clenched in unhappiness. "As long as this doesn't ruin our friendship," he added.

This time Hermione's smile, although smaller and sadder, was genuine. "Of course not Harry."

After Samhain, or Halloween, Hermione threw herself into her work, distancing herself from Harry and Ron even though she had said she wouldn't. She tried to pretend that nothing had ever happened between Harry and her, but telling herself not to think about something only made her think about it even more. As the brisk fall of October progressed into the chill of November and then the outright cold of December, Hermione had never felt lonelier. Watching the snow fall outside her window every night made her remember all the winters at Hogwarts with her friends.

Of course Hermione still saw her friends. She worked with Harry and Ron, although Ron was rarely in the office because he was a good field agent and terrible behind a desk. After several examples of Ron's horrendous filing, Moody had banished him from the office. She still spent time with them, almost as much as she always had. But the huge secret between Harry and Hermione put something between them and Ron as well as between one another. Being estranged from her friends made Hermione lonelier than actually being along would have. And of course it didn't help that Ginny would be visiting for Christmas and Ron and Lavender's wedding. Hermione didn't know how she would face her closest female friend after such a great betrayal.

One night at the Leaky Cauldron with Harry and Ron found Hermione feeling particularly lonely. The conversation had been somewhat stilted and awkward because of all the unspoken thoughts between the three friends. After a while Ron caught on to the way Hermione was refusing to look at Harry whenever she spoke, looking instead at her apple-cider. She had decided drinking only led to foolish choices.

"Alright, what's going on between the two of you?" Ron regarded them suspiciously over his drink. "Harry, you've been quiet all night, and Hermione, you haven't looked at Harry since we got here. Did you two have a fight or something?"

Hermione flashed her fake-cheerful smile. "No Ron, of course not. Nothing's wrong, don't worry." Harry nodded his agreement. Ron, however, did not look convinced.

"Well, whatever's going on between you two, I hope you get over it by the wedding. If everything isn't perfect Lavender'll pitch a fit, and I'd rather there not be any awkward moments." The wedding was to be on January first. "Promise me nothing'll go wrong?" Ron looked at them pleadingly.

"No worries, mate," Harry tried to be reassuring. "Nothing's wrong. It'll all be fine." It was Hermione's turn to nod.

"Just think about your wedding, Ron," she added cheerfully. "After all, it's supposed to be the happiest day of your life, right?"

After that night Hermione and Harry tried to act more natural around one another, but it was still difficult to avoid guilty thoughts.

Hermione, in the hopes of stopping her own thoughts at least, began taking long walks through the snow, chilling herself so thoroughly that she could almost numb out her own guilty conscience. Because Hermione walked every day it came as no surprise when she came down with the flu. When the flu persisted for more than a week, Hermione decided to visit a doctor.

"Um, what?" Hermione could feel her jaw hanging open. She sat in the office of a St. Mungo's medi-wizard.

The wizard regarded her coolly, though not unkindly, across his desk. "I tested you three times, just to make sure. That's general hospital policy to avoid unfortunate mistakes. There's no doubt, Ms. Granger, you are pregnant."

"But ... how ..." Hermione trailed off, desolately staring down at the wooden desk before her. Her hands absently moved to cradle her flat stomach. "I guess I haven't been getting my period, but I was just so busy ... This is terrible!"

The wizard looked confused and somewhat distressed. "I'm very sorry, Ms. Granger. Is there anything I can get you? A glass of water or some tea? You look pale."

Hermione felt pale. She also felt slightly nauseous, though that hadn't been an unfamiliar feeling of late. "So, there's no chance this is a mistake." It wasn't a question.

"No, Ms. Granger, absolutely no chance." The medi-wizard still looked troubled. "But, come now, do try to cheer up. Babies are a blessing! Nothing can bring happiness to a family like a baby!"

"Yes, of course," Hermione mumbled. She stood abruptly. "If you'll excuse me, I really must be going now. Thank you for all your help."

"Yes, yes. Well, congratulations, and I will owl you when you need another check-up." At Hermione's confused expression he explained. "It's important to monitor the baby's progress, make sure everything's going smoothly. Oh, and one more thing!" Grabbing a bit of parchment and a quill, the wizard scribbled something quickly. "Please give this to the witch at the desk. It's for a potion you should be taking everyday. Just a spoonful when you wake up in the morning, some extra vitamins and such. Good day!"

Hermione left in a daze, numbly walking down the corridor towards the outside. Stopping only briefly to receive her potion from the young witch at the desk, Hermione continued on her way, unaware that she had even left the building until a sudden gust of wind made her shiver.

"Oh, God," she murmured, staring at the clear winter sky above. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

TBC...

A/N: Short chapters, I know, but otherwise too much would be happening per chapter. Hopefully the chapters will get longer later on.

Preview:

Mrs. Weasley secretively approached Hermione. "Anything you'd like to tell me, Dear?"


	3. Chapter 3

1Big thanks to all reviewers and to anyone who enjoys the story. Also, thanks to my beta Dawn. This happens to be my favorite chapter of the ones I've written so far, so I hope you all enjoy it too!

Chapter Three

"You're what!" Harry looked extremely unwell. In fact, he looked remarkably like he had just had one of his unpleasant encounters with Voldemort.

"I'm pregnant, Harry." Hermione tried to seem calm. Inside she was feeling just as bad as he was. "The wizard at St. Mungo's did the test three times. There's absolutely no doubt." It was actually only a little later that same day. Hermione was facing Harry over tea sandwiches at a small Diagon Alley restaurant. She had decided it would be best to inform Harry as early as possible.

"H-how are you sure it's mine?" Harry asked, instantly feeling like an asshole.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from saying something regrettable. Harry was in shock, his reaction was completely understandable, if a tad rude. After all, it wasn't as if they were in a relationship; they had just slept together once.

"You're the only one I've been with in quite some time, Harry," Hermione said quietly, leaning across the table. "The only way it could have been anyone else's would be if I'd been pregnant since last March. As I'm not as big as a house, I'd say that's unlikely."

Harry gulped nervously. "And you're... having the baby?"

Hermione sighed, rubbing her eyes wearily. "I have to have the baby. Only someone raised by Muggles would ask such a question. Abortion is against wizarding law. The population's too small." Harry didn't think to ask how Hermione, a Muggle-born, knew more wizarding law than he did. She knew everything. "I could give the baby up for adoption, to wizarding parents only of course, but few would want the child of a Muggle-born. Add to that the fact that it will be your child and it's a tricky situation."

"So you're keeping it?" Harry leaned back, still looking extremely pale.

Hermione sighed again. "I think I have to. I can't come up with any other solution."

"I'll help," Harry volunteered weakly. "I'll take responsibility."

"I know you would, Harry." Hermione smiled at him sadly. "But you don't have to. I'll take care of everything. You really needn't worry."

"God, how can I explain this to Ginny?" Harry ran his hands through his hair. "Do you think she'll ever forgive me?"

Hermione's eyes flashed. She loved Harry like a brother (excluding what had happened between them of course) and she didn't want to see him unhappy. "We won't tell anyone it's yours. I'll say I was seeing a Muggle man, we broke up, and I learned I was pregnant after. No one needs to know."

"Come on, Hermione!" Harry exploded. "Another secret? It's bad enough having to cover up what happened, but this? This is a human life we're talking about! This is our child!" He sat up straight in his chair, glaring at Hermione intently. "I hate lies."

"Then don't think about it as me helping you lie to Ginny," Hermione insisted logically. "Consider this. What if Voldemort, who has spies _everywhere_, learned that I was having your child? That would make both me and the baby targets. Do you _want_ to endanger us?"

Harry collapsed in his chair, slouching his shoulders and leaning forward despondently. When he looked up Hermione almost cringed at the look of defeat in his eyes. "That was a cruel card to play, Hermione." Hermione looked away, remembering the way Harry always blamed himself for the deaths of those around him. "But you're right, as usual. So I'll go along with this madness. The baby isn't mine."

"Thank you, Harry." Hermione reached across the table, grasping his limp hand. "Thank you. It's better this way, really."

"But I will help." Harry squeezed her hand back, smiling tentatively to show that he forgave her. "Every month I'm going to have some gold from my account transferred to yours, to help the baby. And if you ever need anything..."

"I know, Harry." Hermione smiled back, feeling tears in her eyes. "We are still friends after all, right?"

"Of course."

Hermione couldn't help but walk around the table and hug Harry right there. "Thank you."

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"Happy Christmas!" Hermione walked through the unlocked front door of the Burrow on Christmas Eve, boxes of presents spilling from her arms and her small bag trailing behind her of its own accord.

"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley ran from the kitchen to hug Hermione, arms and festive green and red apron covered in flour. "Welcome, welcome! Happy Christmas to you, Dear!

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione tried to keep her gifts from falling. "Should I just stick these under the tree now?"

"Of course, Dear, of course! Come into the kitchen when you're done, I've got some fresh cookies and a nice bit of eggnog for you. Just leave your bag in the hallway for now."

After depositing her parcels under the tree Hermione wandered into the warm kitchen. Fred and George were already in there, munching on cookies as they discussed, in low voices, their inventions to be released for the new year. "Happy Christmas, Hermione," one of them said, glancing in her direction. "Hey," the other waved. Hermione nodded her greeting.

"Here you are, Dear." Hermione didn't have a chance to protest as a plate of warm cookies and a glass of eggnog were shoved into her hands.

"Please, Mrs. Weasley, do you have anything a little less... strong?" Hermione begged after sniffing the drink. It seemed to have a higher alcohol content than fire-whisky.

"Yes, yes." Mrs. Weasley nodded distractedly. "Any particular reason, Dear?"

"No, just trying not to drink too much," Hermione lied. She was regarded with a tolerantly suspicious gaze before being handed a mug of hot chocolate. "Thank you."

"Mum?" The shout came from the living room Hermione had just come through. "Anyone home?"

"Of course, Ron, we're in the kitchen!" Mrs. Weasley yelled back, cheerfully running her rolling pin over the cookie dough spread before her. "Come in when you've taken you're cloak off!"

Ron entered a moment later, followed quickly by Lavender and then Harry.

"Lavender, darling, I wasn't expecting you!" Mrs. Weasley rushed to embrace her future daughter-in-law, still covered in flour. "I thought you were spending Christmas with your parents?"

"I am, but I wanted to stop by and wish you a happy Christmas on the way." Lavender waved at Hermione and the twins. "Hey, Hermione, Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas." Hermione lifted her mug in a mock toast.

"Do you have time for some cookies, Lavender?" Mrs. Weasley raised a plate temptingly.

"Sorry, no. I have to be getting home really soon or Mum'll throw a fit. But I'm glad I got to see you first." Lavender rushed forward for another hug, pecked Ron on the lips, and waved to Hermione, Harry and the twins once more. "Happy Christmas all!" Then she was off.

"Good girl, that one." Mrs. Weasley nodded her approval. "She'll make a nice Weasley, she will."

"Thanks, Mum." Ron rolled his eyes behind her back, snatching one of Hermione's cookies.

"Don't roll you're eyes at me, Ronald." Mrs. Weasley waved her rolling pin threateningly. "And leave Hermione's cookies alone, you can have your own plate."

"How are you," Harry asked Hermione quietly. "Everything all right?"

Hermione smiled at Harry, refusing to answer his questions. "Happy Christmas, Harry." Rising, she grabbed the rest of her cookies and put them in the pocket of her jumper for later. "I'm gonna take my bag up to Ginny's." She called, making her way out of the kitchen. She grabbed the bag and headed up to the bedroom, munching on one of her cookies as she went. She was happy her stomach hadn't been acting up that day as she had no desire to forgo Mrs. Weasley's cooking. When she opened the door to Ginny's bedroom she was somewhat surprised to find Ginny already there, lying on her bed with a book.

"Ginny, I wasn't sure you'd arrived yet!" Hermione dropped her bag, rushing forward to greet her friend. "You look fabulous!" Working with dragons in Romania had agreed with Ginny. She was lean and muscular and had taken to wearing her hair in an efficient and attractive french braid down her back. She wore good quality leather clothing, normal garb for one who worked around the ever volatile and frequently dangerous dragons. "Did you know Harry's downstairs?"

Ginny's pale face flushed, making her even prettier. "He is? I hadn't realized..."

"He and Ron just got here." Hermione smiled at her friends excitement, ignoring the stab of guilt it brought. "Come on, I'll go down with you to say hello."

Ginny practically flew down the stairs, meeting Harry halfway. Evidently Mrs. Weasley had just told him that Ginny was already home. The two regarded each other awkwardly for an instant before throwing themselves into a passionate embrace. Hermione watched from the flight above as Harry kissed Ginny deeply, caressing her hair tenderly before pulling back to cover her small face in kisses.

"I've missed you so much." Hermione heard him whisper. "How long has it been?"

"Since last Easter," Ginny whispered back, burying her face in his neck. "Far too long, love."

Feeling like some perverse peeping tom, Hermione cleared her throat. "Um, hey," she mumbled uncomfortably. The couple laughed.

The three of them returned to the kitchen, joining Ron to reminisce about past Christmases. The arrival of the rest of the Weasleys, excluding Percy of course, made the kitchen, if slightly more cramped, even more homey. Fleur in particular seemed to brighten up the room, as she always did, and her and Bill's daughter was made the center of attention. Like a tiny, golden-red haired version of her mother, Celeste was definitely a charmer.

Watching Harry cradle the infant, Hermione couldn't help but touch her own stomach. Harry saw, and regarded her solemnly. Mrs. Weasley, who caught the gesture but luckily missed the exchanged glance, gave Hermione a questioning look with one raised eyebrow that spoke volumes.

It was only a little past noon, but preparations had to be made to feed the huge family, so Mrs. Weasley shooed the menfolk from the kitchen and asked, more like demanded, Hermione, Ginny, and Fleur to stay and help. Hermione, who found this slightly sexist, pulled on an apron reluctantly, complaining that she wasn't much of a cook.

"Oh, don't be silly, Dear," Mrs. Weasley waved her protestations away. "All women can cook, some just don't know how yet." But Hermione was still given the easiest job: peeling and chopping potatoes to be boiled. Mrs. Weasley quickly dressed a massive goose before secretively approaching Hermione. "Anything you'd like to tell me, Dear?"

Hermione gave her a slightly surprised look before shrugging and accepting the matronly woman's prodding. "Nothing that you haven't already guessed, I'm sure." She sighed in exasperation. "No wonder you and Lavender get on so well, you must be a psychic!"

Mrs. Weasley chuckled appreciatively. "Not at all, Dear, just a mother. We all have eyes in the back of our heads, after all. That's a skill you'll have to work on, I think." She said the last in a whisper, not wanting the other women to know yet. "Will you be telling everyone?"

"I was going to announce it at dinner, if you think that's a good idea?" Hermione felt a bit nervous. In many ways the Weasleys were more her family than her own parents were. The only child of two only children, Hermione didn't have a large or particularly close knit family like this one. She cared about Mrs. Weasley's opinion.

"A wonderful idea, Dear." Mrs. Weasley patted Hermione's cheek fondly. "You lot really are growing up, aren't you." With a small sigh Mrs. Weasley made her way back to a second goose.

Dinner that night was a veritable feast. Hermione felt like she'd peeled and chopped a thousand potatoes, which might not have been too far off the mark. The huge table groaned under the weight of three geese, glazed carrots, fabulous salad topped with salted ham and french goat cheese, and mounds of mashed potatoes and gravy. The Weasley clan, Harry, and Hermione all dug in, surprisingly eating almost all of the huge meal.

"No one ever believes how much food it takes to feed all these mouths," Mrs. Weasley confided to Hermione. "They all think we don't make any money, but it's all gone into food!" She giggled over her wine glass, hiccupping slightly. "Pardon me."

Halfway through dinner Hermione rose, lifting her glass of cider. "Excuse me, everyone, I have something I'd like to tell you all." The family took several moments to hush themselves before turning to face Hermione. "You must know I think of all of you as family, so I thought I should tell you my news." Keeping her face as cheerful as she knew how Hermione continued. "In roughly twelve years another Granger will be attending Hogwarts!" It took a moment for everyone to understand this.

"Congratulations!" Was yelled several times as a few people came around the table to give Hermione hugs and slaps on the back. Ron was one such person, of course.

"Who's the father?" He asked quietly, smiling his congratulations. "Anyone I know?"

"No, just some Muggle bloke I was dating for a little while. We split before I found out, but it's really not important," Hermione lied easily. She had practiced this explanation. She didn't even glance in Harry's direction, although she almost looked at Ginny.

Forced to play his part, Harry approached Hermione immediately after, Ginny leading him forward by the hand. "Congratulations!" Ginny squealed, hugging Hermione tightly.

"Yes, congratulations," Harry murmured as he hugged Hermione next.

"Thank you, everyone," Hermione blinked away tears, smiling and trying to make it seem like they were tears of happiness. "But come on, lets not let dinner get cold!"

The meal was continued along with happy conversation. No one brought up the question of how Hermione would raise a child on her own in the wizarding world. They all loved her and had no wish to distress her, but the wizarding community in general was often somewhat archaic and single mothers were rare. Hermione knew all this, of course, but refused to let it bother her. Many wizards also disliked Muggle-borns, but she'd never let that stop her, had she?

After dinner everyone retired to the living room for more cookies and eggnog (more hot cocoa for Hermione). They all went to bed fairly early, however, because Mrs. Weasley insisted they should all be asleep for midnight so that Christmas could start in the morning. This was fine with Hermione, who was finding that she had less energy than usual. Following Ginny upstairs, Hermione thought her face might crack from yawning so much.

"Too bad Harry's in Ron's room, or we could spend the night together." Ginny sighed as she and Hermione readied for bed. "I haven't seen him for months and we're stuck here!"

"I could just–" Hermione began, only to be cut off by Ginny's guilty protestations.

"Oh no, I didn't mean I wanted _you_ out! I'm glad you're here, I've missed you too!" Ginny scrambled to explain. "I can spend time with Harry before the wedding. Besides," Ginny smiled slyly. "You need your rest now."

Hermione blushed, hiding her discomfort by grabbing her pajamas and changing behind the oriental screen Ginny kept in her room. "Oh, I'm fine," she muttered.

"What's the father like? I hope he was handsome; you wouldn't want an ugly baby," Ginny teased.

"No, he's not ugly," Hermione laughed somewhat nervously, coming out from behind the screen and climbing into bed.

"Well, tell me what he looks like!" Ginny moved behind the screen.

"He's tallish, with dark hair and light eyes," Hermione smoothed the covers over her stomach. "He's a very nice man, honorable, kind. Charming when he wants to be."

"Why'd you break up?" Ginny asked curiously, climbing into the other bed. "He sounds like a catch."

"Well, for one thing he was a Muggle," Hermione braided her bushy hair into two braids to keep them out of the way while she slept. "And the other was that he was positively awful in bed," she giggled falsely, holding up the pinky of her left hand in explanation. Ginny giggled her appreciation.

"Better hope you don't have a son," she teased. Hermione blushed. "Well, I'm done-in. Good night, Hermione," Ginny waved her wand and the lights went out.

"Good night," Hermione whispered, turning onto her side to look away from her friend. Despite her exhaustion Hermione didn't sleep for a long time.

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"Happy Christmas!" Hermione awoke to Ginny's cheerful cry. Opening her eyes Hermione was startled to see Ginny leaning over her, grinning like a loon. "Presents time!" That got Hermione out of bed.

The two girls ran down the stairs, laughing happily to find everyone else already assembled in the living room, staring covetously at the huge pile of presents beneath and around the tree.

"Finally, she's up!" Fred, or maybe it was George, exclaimed. "Thought you'd sleep forever, we did!"

"Fred, be quiet, pregnant women need rest!" Mrs. Weasley wacked his head lightly. "Okay, everyone get your presents!"

There was a massive scramble while everyone searched for boxes with their names on them. At Ron's insistence Hermione sat on the couch watching and was presented with gifts as the others found hers. "This is silly!" She exclaimed, but she made no move to stand, enjoying the preferential treatment. Finally the gifts had been divided and it was time to unwrap. The amount of wrapping paper thrown around in the next few moments was almost alarming. Hermione took her time, enjoying every gift before opening the next.

Her first gift was a fossilized dragon egg from Ginny. It was a startling green color and more closely resembled dark jade than egg-shell. Her next gift was from Ron. It was a magnificent leather-bound book filled with information and brewing techniques for rare potions. Harry had gotten her a lovely charm bracelet with a gryffindor crest charm already attached along with a charm of the Aurors' insignia. The twins had given her several of their new inventions, Charlie gave a vial of dragon's blood (a rare and expensive potions ingredient) and a highly polished dragon scale, and Bill and Fleur gave her another leather-bound book, though this one was about defensive spells useful for an auror. From Mr. and Mrs. Weasley Hermione received a very fine dragon's hide bound journal with her initials engraved across the front along with another, much larger box. This proved to be full of hand-made baby clothing and toys.

"I threw that together for you last night." Mrs. Weasley smiled at Hermione's bemusement. "A baby always needs more clothing and I have lots. If you ever need anything, you just come to me." Hermione couldn't help but embrace the woman tightly, wishing this had been her mother.

The rest of the day was spent playing in the snow and eating cookies, and eventually there was another feast, this one just as satisfying as the one from the night before. Everyone stayed over that night too, but the next morning it was time to go home. Ginny and Charlie were the only one's who would continue staying at the Burrow; everyone else lived close enough that they could easily make it to the wedding from home.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," Harry whispered, handing her a small parcel as she headed out the front door.

"Happy Christmas." Hermione hugged him before grabbing her bag and Apparating home.

Unwrapping the parcel on her living room couch, Hermione almost cried. Inside was a tiny brown teddy-bear. It was the softest thing Hermione had ever felt and it wore a miniature Gryffindor scarf around it's little neck. "Thank you, Harry," Hermione whispered, hugging the bear and leaning back on the couch.

TBC...

Preview:

"Oh, not at all, Sir," Hermione blushed even darker. "I understand it's quite normal for a pregnant woman to feel sick, so I'm not worried."


	4. Chapter 4

1Thanks to those of you who reviewed and pointed out my error: Celeste is the child of Bill and Fleur, not Charlie. My bad!

Also, thanks to my interim beta Lucy. I do, however, need a new full-time beta, preferably an accredited one. If anyone who reads this would be interested, contact me!

Chapter Four

The day of the wedding started out as a complete disaster for Hermione. Although she hadn't been out celebrating New Years Eve the night before like most people, she awoke completely exhausted and bleary-minded. She had had the nightmare again. Too add insult to injury her morning sickness was in full-swing and she raced from her bed to retch furiously in her tiny bathroom. After a long shower and a snack of dry salty crackers and soda-water Hermione was feeling slightly more awake and aware, but was thrown back into a foul mood when she tried on her dress.

As a bridesmaid, though not the maid of honor thank goodness, Hermione's dress had been arranged for her early in November, only a few days after she had become pregnant and long before she had found out. It was a distastefully frilly dress and was, predictably enough, lavender in color. Crookshanks had been sleeping on it, so the dress was covered in a thick layer of orange fur. But it wasn't the dress's hideous appearance that distressed Hermione: she had long ago resigned herself to that, and it was easy to clean off the cat hair. What bothered Hermione was that when she pulled the dress on she discovered that it was a little too tight. At three months Hermione's stomach was still mostly flat, but she had put on about five pounds which made the dress a little too snug.

"Dammit!" Hermione shrieked, throwing the dress away in irritation. It was a simple matter to charm the dress to fit better, but it was infuriating that she had to. "Anything else?" She demanded of the ceiling. Predictably, there was no answer.

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"Hermione, you look great!" Ginny ran to embrace her friend. "How're you feeling?"

"Nauseous, and you?" Hermione hugged her back, fighting down another wave of the morning sickness which had returned with a vengeance when she apparated to the Burrow.

"Wishing Lavender had picked any other color." Ginny smiled wryly. "Red hair and lavender dress clash something awful, don't you think?"

Hermione had to agree that the dress was not a flattering color for Ginny, but as the groom's only sister she had been pressed into service as a bridesmaid quite against her will. "At least you aren't too fat to wear yours," Hermione complained. "This morning I had to charm the damn thing just to fit. I've gained weight already."

"That's normal." Ginny patted Hermione's arm. "Come on, lets get our bouquets."

The wedding was to take place in a small church not far from the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley had wanted the ceremony to be performed in her backyard, but it was far too cold and Lavender had insisted on a January wedding claiming, rightly enough, that there was no time to be wasted in "these troubled times." No one could refute that claim, so Mrs. Weasley had relented. Ron, Harry, and the other Weasley men were all at the church already, but the bride, her mother, Mrs. Weasley, and the bridesmaids would get ready at the Burrow and drive to the church shortly.

The bouquets were laid out on the kitchen table, all painstakingly assembled by Mrs. Weasley's sure hand. The bridesmaids all had small nosegays of miniature white and lavender roses. Nearby lay Lavender's bouquet, a huge affair of normal-sized white and lavender roses with some baby's breath and a few white lily's added in for contrast.

"Wonder if she'll tip over from all those flowers," Ginny whispered into Hermione's ear as they grabbed their nosegays. Hermione giggled her appreciation and sneezed.

"Hermione, there you are!" Lavender rushed forward, followed close behind by Parvati, the maid of honor. Hermione could barely take Lavender's appearance in as she was embraced tightly and engulfed in voluminous white cloth.

The wedding dress was long and tasteful, not nearly as frilly as the bridesmaids' gowns. It draped elegantly over Lavender's slender frame and had a lavender sash fastened around the waist. A coronet of tiny white roses crowned Lavender's head, from which hung a thin veil.

"Lavender, you look lovely," Hermione told her friend. "Nervous?"

"I think I'm going to vomit." Lavender laughed, looking pale under her make-up.

"Well, that's two of us then." Hermione smiled.

"Oh, Ron told me! Congratulations!" Lavender embraced her again.

"Thank you."

"You look like you're glowing," Parvati added.

Ginny inspected Hermione carefully. "You know, I believe you are. I guess what they say about pregnant women's true after all. You really do seem to glow."

"Oh, that's just the cold." Hermione blushed, shrugging off their compliments. "Are we going to the church soon?"

The women all crammed themselves into Mr. Weasley's new car. It was much like the old one in that it expanded to fit everyone as they climbed in, but it was still crowded due to the large skirts and the great amount of flowers. Hermione sneezed, remembering her pollen allergy. Unfortunately for Hermione the church was similarly decked out in flowers. Bunches of them hung from every surface of the small sanctuary along with white draperies and a multitude of candles.

Parvati, Hermione, Ginny and Fleur (also a bridesmaid) all preceded Lavender into the hall, but after the bride had been escorted down the aisle by her father they all sat except for Parvati. Similarly, Harry lurked behind Ron, waving at Hermione and winking at Ginny who blushed prettily.

Hermione couldn't really remember the service later. She was too distracted by a runny nose and an upset stomach to pay much attention to whatever it was that the Vicker said during the ceremony. She assumed that there had been a point where Ron and Lavender had recited some vows, and maybe said "I do," but other than that she had no clue what happened.

Hermione did remember the reception, however, which was held at the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley must have been cooking for days to prepare all that food, which fed about one hundred witches and wizards. Hermione hadn't been sure that everyone would fit, but it seemed to work out all right, so she relaxed. Because Ron and Lavender, as the center of attention, were always busy, and Harry and Ginny were spending every moment together, Hermione spent most of the reception hiding out in the kitchen. She had never been comfortable in crowds, and besides she didn't even know most of the guests.

"Miss Granger, a pleasure indeed." Hermione almost jumped at that familiar voice.

"Professor! Ron invited _you_?" Hermione hadn't meant to make the 'you' sound quite so incredulous. She blushed at his raised brow.

"Quite alright, Miss Granger." Professor Snape chuckled darkly but did not smile. "No, Mr. Weasley did not, in fact, invite _me_. He did invite Headmistress McGonagle, however, and she brought me as her 'plus one'."

"Of course, sir," Hermione inclined her head politely. "Did you enjoy the ceremony?"

"Far too many flowers. Other than that, it would appear they are legally married, so I suppose the ceremony was a success," Snape responded dryly. "And you?"

"Oh, I wasn't paying any attention." Hermione giggled self-consciously. Even after graduating and being considered a mature, adult witch, her old Potions professor still made her exceedingly nervous. "I was too allergic to the flowers and I've been feeling unwell all day."

"I hope you are not sick, Miss Granger," Snape raised his brow again, this time in faint, surprisingly polite concern. "Anything I can do?"

"Oh, not at all, sir." Hermione blushed even darker. "I understand it's quite normal for a pregnant woman to feel sick, so I'm not worried."

Now both brows were raised in very obvious surprise. "Congratulations, Miss Granger. I had no idea. Or, rather, is it a Mrs. Something now?"

Hermione thought that her face would burst into flames, she was blushing so furiously. "No, still Miss. I'm currently on my own, sir."

"Forgive me, then, Miss Granger. And congratulations." Snape also looked uncomfortable now. "Excuse me," with a slight bow, Snape left the kitchen, returning to the safer conversation of McGonagle.

"Stupid." Hermione banged her head lightly against the table-top. "Stupid, stupid, stupid..."

"You thinking about me again?" Ron grinned as he sat down across from Hermione.

"Ronald." Hermione sat up straight again, smiling at her friend and letting warmth infuse her voice. "I suppose I should think of you as a man now, but you still look like the fourteen year old boy I used to have a crush on."

"Really?" Ron looked rather pleased with himself. "I liked you too for a few years. Think it would've worked out?"

Hermione raised her brow in mock disbelief. "The Quidditch fanatic and the bookworm? You must be joking, Ron. No, I'm just as glad we never tried anything. I like it better this way."

"Would it insult you if I agreed?"

"Of course."

"Then I will continue to pine for you." Ron laughed as Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're looking down, though. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, I'm just feeling a little low. Don't let me spoil your day for you though, go dance with Mrs. Weasley."

"Mum?"

Hermione had to throw a napkin at Ron's laughing face. "I suppose that could get confusing," she admitted, giggling. "After all, now there's a Molly, a Fleur, and a Lavender. Go dance with Mrs. L. Weasley."

"Will do." Ron gave her a mocking salute before racing off to be with his bride.

"Have fun," Hermione called after him. Sighing, she stood from the table. Well, if she couldn't enjoy herself she might as well go home. At least Crookshanks would keep her company. As Hermione left the kitchen she ran straight into Ginny and Harry.

"Hermione, having fun?" Ginny gasped, laughter in her eyes. She and Harry had been dancing.

"Not really; I think I'm just gonna go home." Hermione tried her best brave smile, but couldn't quite make it reach her eyes.

"Oh come on, you have to stay," Ginny grabbed Hermione's arm as though to stop her. "Dance with Charlie; he hasn't got a partner."

Before Hermione knew what was happening she had been all but thrust into Charlie's arms. "Hey," she murmured awkwardly as he spun her around the living room, which had been cunningly converted into a dance-floor by removing all the furniture.

"How are you?" Charlie asked, looking only slightly less awkward. Charlie was basically a taller, much more handsome version of Ron; he wasn't above being uncomfortable in close quarters to girls.

"Nauseous, and you?" Hermione replied tartly. "I was going to go home, but Ginny insisted I stay."

"Well, I'm glad you're still here." Charlie smirked. "As long as you don't throw up on me, that is."

"Ha ha," Hermione responded dryly, though there was mirth in her eyes. "When are you and Ginny going back to Romania?"

"Tomorrow morning." Charlie glanced to where Ginny and Harry danced together, looking for all the world as if this might be their own wedding. "I guess she'll stay at Harry's again tonight. She's really missed him, you know."

"Yeah, so has Harry." Hermione looked away, wishing even more now that she had been allowed to leave. "But you never know, any day now it could be safe for them here."

"Could be." Charlie twirled Hermione one last time as the song ended. "Do you still want to go home? I wouldn't mind a bit of company, if you wouldn't mind going for a walk or something."

Hermione was almost tempted. Looking at Charlie's face, she was surprised to see that he seemed to be flirting with her, in his own, quiet way. "As nice as that would be, I really should go home. After all, I wouldn't want to go and throw up all over you," she joked.

Charlie had the grace to smile back. "Take care of yourself, Hermione. And congratulations."

"Thank you." Hermione gave him a brief hug before departing. Not long ago she probably would have gone for it, too. Charlie was kind, handsome, and clever enough. He also happened to be a Weasley, her favorite family. No, Charlie wouldn't have been a bad choice, but now she didn't have that option. It wouldn't be fair to become involved with Charlie, not with a baby on the way. Especially not with Harry's baby on the way.

Hermione pulled on her cloak and Apparated home without bothering to go outside the Burrow. It was generally bad manners to Apparate within another wizard's home, but Hermione didn't feel like getting cold today. She wasted no time in changing into her pajamas and climbing into bed.

"Hey, Crookshanks," Hermione murmured as the cat snuggled up to her. "You're the only man I need, anyhow." Crookshanks' only response was to purr deeply, but that was just what Hermione was looking for. "Who needs humans when I have you." Curling up with her cat, Hermione dozed off.

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Severus Snape was generally not a wedding person. He didn't have anything against them, per say, he merely found most ceremonies tedious and somewhat foolish. Furthermore, the institution of marriage was unrealistic. Pledging to love one person for the rest of your life? Madness. Therefore, Severus hadn't been exactly excited by the prospect of Ronald Weasley and Lavender Brown's wedding, but he had agreed to go to keep Minerva happy. Since the loss of Albus, Minerva was prone to fits of loneliness and Severus thought it was the least he could do to alleviate that pain. After all, he had been the one to cause it.

Strolling through the Burrow during the reception had strongly reminded Severus of the last time he had visited this house. It had been the summer after Albus's death, at Bill Weasley's wedding to the French witch, Fleur Delacoeur. Fleur Weasley, now. The wedding had been Severus's only opportunity to Obliviate everyone who knew the truth about that night on the Astronomy Tower. Everyone who knew that he had murdered Albus Dumbledore. Because of this, Severus wasn't exactly in the best of moods at the reception. Until he had wandered into the kitchen.

The sight of Hermione Granger had surprised him more than it should have. It wasn't the fact that she was there, that would be obvious to anyone as she was the groom's best friend. Severus vaguely recalled seeing her as a bridesmaid at the church, though truth be told he hadn't been paying much attention. What did surprise Severus was how Granger had appeared. For one thing she was not the child he remembered; she had grown into a reasonably attractive young woman in the years since he had last set eyes on her. Even more surprising was the way she seemed to... glow.

The discovery that Hermione Granger was pregnant and unmarried had added on to Severus's surprise. Then he had grown irritated with himself for caring. What business of his was it what the foolish girl did with her life? He damned himself for pitying her; life would not be easy on an un-married witch with a child in tow. He had returned to Minerva's side, wrapped up in his own thoughts until he spotted Granger dancing with one of the older Weasley boys... Charlie, that was it, the dragon tamer. Severus wondered briefly if the boy might be the father of Granger's child, until Granger gently turned the Weasley down. Severus almost gloated at that; after teaching so many of them, the Weasley children were hardly his favorite people.

Severus didn't stay much longer than Granger had. After seeing her Disapparate he quickly became bored; he no longer had anyone to spy on. Making his excuses to Minerva, Severus had made use of the fireplace in the Burrow's kitchen and flooed back to Hogwarts.

"So, Granger's going to have a baby," he murmured to himself. He was relaxing on the couch in his sitting room, enjoying a glass of scotch and gazing into the fire. "I suppose I'll have to teach the brat. Damn, Weasley better _not_ be the father, I couldn't bear another one." Remembering that one of the Weasleys, the one who had married the French girl, already had a child, Severus cursed. "Oh well, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

Severus was used to talking to himself these days. He used to spend most of his evenings conversing with Albus, but that was no longer an option. Not unless he felt like breaking into Minerva's office and speaking to Albus's portrait. He and the portrait had an understanding; the painting would never tell anyone who had killed him just as Severus would never tell anyone he had been the killer. But Severus still felt uncomfortable speaking to the semi-ghost of his old friend. It brought back the memories of his betrayal...

Severus downed his scotch and poured another glass. It was hard, these days, to get any rest unless he had drunk a few glasses first. His mind refused to rest. Pausing on the way back to his couch, Severus had a thought. "Granger's an Auror, isn't she? Hmm, I doubt that will continue much longer." The idea of a pregnant, active field-auror was preposterous; it was far too dangerous. "Oh well, her problem." Severus settled onto his couch, sipping his drink and gazing into the fire once more.

TBC...

Preview:

As the glass eye moved to regard Hermione's midriff Moody's real eye widened and he leaned back in disbelief. "Granger, do you have something to tell me?" He growled.


	5. Chapter 5

1Huge thanks to my new beta, Althea, and apologies that this took so long to post.

Chapter Five

"Granger, are you alright?" The gruff voice of Alastor Moody brought Hermione out of her daydream.

"Yes, sir, perfect. And you?" Hermione sat up straighter, scrambling to organize the scattered sheets of parchment on her desk. Halfway through January and she was still swimming in paperwork.

"You don't seem perfect to me," Moody stated matter-of-factly. "You haven't been paying attention at meetings, you come in late, you fall asleep, you spend half your time in the bloody bathroom, and you haven't been finishing your reports nearly as fast as usual. None of this would upset me much, but it isn't like you!"

Sitting in the chair across from Hermione, the scarred old Auror regarded her with both eyes, although his false eye moved around sluggishly. As the glass eye moved to regard Hermione's midriff, Moody's real eye widened, and he leaned back in disbelief.

"Granger, do you have something to tell me?" He growled.

Hermione flushed. She hadn't thought to alert Moody before now, partially in embarrassment and partially in simple absent-mindedness. "Sir, I was getting around to telling you, I just couldn't find the right moment–"

"Couldn't find the right moment!" Moody yelled. "Granger, you could have been called into the field at any moment! What if there had been a bloody attack, eh, what then? Would you let me be held responsible for a miscarriage?"

Hermione paled. She honestly hadn't even considered that. "Sir, I wasn't thinking. But look, I'm fine! Just keep me at the desk until the baby's born, and everything will be fine, I swear!"

Moody shook his head sadly. "Granger, don't you know anything? There are no desk-Aurors. If you can't go into the field, then you can't work at all. What would you do, report details about cases you haven't even seen?"

"What are you getting at, sir?" Hermione asked slowly. She was afraid that she already knew the answer.

"Look, you aren't married, right?" Hermione shook her head. "A boyfriend to help?" Again, no. "Then there's nothing for it. Hermione Granger, you are being put on an extended leave of absence. You can't work when you're pregnant, and to have a single parent working a life-threatening job is plain reckless."

"Sir, you can't mean–"

"I'm sorry, Granger, but there's nothing for it." Moody looked genuinely regretful. "Until that child is a legal adult you can't work as an Auror."

"No!"

"There's nothing for it," Moody repeated slowly. "I can't change policy, and even if I could, I wouldn't. This is for your own good, Granger, and much more importantly for the baby's. Clear out your office."

Hermione could feel her eyes filling with tears. Shock, outrage, and despair mingled as she fought to keep the tears from spilling.

Seeing this, Moody sighed sadly. "I really am terribly sorry, Granger. You're a good Auror: you do well in the field, you follow orders, and you process this damn Ministry paperwork faster than anyone else in this bloody department. But think; if you were to be hit in the field with almost anything, you _would_ miscarry. And even once the child is born, there's always the extreme danger–even likelihood–that that child might become orphaned. I can't have that on my head."

Moody stormed out of the office, leaving a stunned and teary Hermione in his wake. She felt almost paralyzed, too upset to move. If her next move would be packing up her desk, then it was a move that she had no desire to make. They had planned everything! She, Harry, and Ron, they had planned to become Aurors together so that when the time came to fight Voldemort once and for all, they would be ready. Now Hermione had been neatly cut out.

"I'm gonna be sick," Hermione groaned, jumping from her seat and racing down the hall to the women's lav. Heaving dryly, Hermione remembered that she had already thrown up her breakfast earlier.

When the bout of illness had passed, Hermione collapsed against the door to her stall. Burying her face in her hands, she wept silently. What next?

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"What will you do?" Harry stood, quite at odds, in Hermione's cramped apartment. "Do you have any money saved up?"

"On what they pay us?" Hermione snapped, sitting on her couch wrapped in a blanket. "Come on, Harry. Not all of us had rich parents leave us mountains of gold."

Harry gritted his teeth. That was low. But, ever a good friend, he let it pass for the time being, knowing how upset Hermione must be. "I'll share it with you. I was going to give you some every month. I'll just give you more, weekly."

"Harry, thank you, but don't be ridiculous. That would be unfair of me." Hermione rubbed her eyes, feeling exhausted. "I can find work, really. If nothing else, I'll move back home with my parents." She grimaced in distaste. "They are dentists after all; they do alright."

"Please, just tell me if there's anything I can do." Harry kneeled beside the couch, grasping Hermione's small hand in both his larger ones. "Anything at all."

"Go back in time and prevent all this," Hermione whispered.

When Harry's expression turned thoughtful, she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Harry, try not to be so thick; I don't mean you really should."

Biting her lip in thought, Hermione's face brightened slightly. "No, I've had an idea. I think I know where I can go for help."

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"I know that I'm too young to be a teacher; some of these older students were here when I was. But I was hoping you would know of some kind of apprentice, or even just assistant, position that I could fill?"

Hermione was feeling pale and wrung out, not to mention exhausted. A week after Moody had fired her and joblessness was beginning to take its toll on Hermione.

She fidgeted under Minerva McGonagall's penetrating stare, feeling awkward sitting in the Headmistress's office. The many portraits of Headmasters and Headmistresses past observed her solemnly from the walls.

"Miss Granger, of course I can find you a position!" McGonagall looked both shocked and pleased. "You know, I always thought you were wasted as an Auror; you have the mind of an academic. Why, if it weren't for your age, I would offer you a teaching position right now! As it is, I will find you an apprenticeship with one of the other teachers."

McGonagall paused in thought. Continuing more like her old self, she regarded Hermione with a strict look. "But I must warn you, you will be working extremely hard."

"I feel that I'm bound to tell you, Headmistress," Hermione avoided McGonagall's gaze, "but I'm expecting."

Keen eyes flicked from Hermione's face to her slightly swollen stomach in some surprise, but McGonagall smiled congenially.

"Why, congratulations, Miss Granger! That changes nothing of course. Pregnancy has rarely been known to addle the mind, after all." She chuckled tolerantly, reminding Hermione oddly of Dumbledore. "Besides, here you will have access to one of Britain's finest mediwitches; Madam Pomfrey will monitor your pregnancy, and I'm sure she can deliver the child. When are you due?"

"Late June," Hermione cleared her throat. "So... I can have a job?"

"Of course, dear child!" McGonagall clapped her hands together. "How do you feel about Potions?"

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"Minerva, you can't be serious." Severus regarded the head in his fire as though it were foaming at the mouth. "You expect me to take Granger as an apprentice?"

"Severus, be nice," Minerva scolded gently. "She was top in her year for Potions, not to mention every other subject, and she would be an apt apprentice. Besides, haven't you been muttering about all the papers you have to grade? An assistant wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

"An assistant I could bear," Severus murmured. "It's the idea of an apprentice. I can't help but feel as though I'm training my replacement."

"Now, Severus, you're still a young man." Minerva smiled at him, knowing she had won. "You have absolutely no need of a replacement. Unless, of course, you were to be moved back to teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts." Startled, Severus regarded her a few minutes before smiling slightly in triumph. "Now, I know you've given in, so just say you'll take her on."

"Why certainly, Minerva," Severus practically purred in pleasure. "Anything you say."

"Good, she'll be down soon. I've arranged for her to take the rooms across from yours; you will be expected to share your lab with her. And, Severus," McGonagall fixed him with a hard stare. "I expect you to treat her with patience and respect; if nothing else, you must give her professional courtesy."

"Of course, of course." Severus waved his hand distractedly as Minerva's head vanished from his fireplace.

To teach Defense again! When Slughorn had quit after Dumbledore's death, Severus had been pressed into teaching Potions once more, but the taste of Defense he had been given had only made him want it even more. Unfortunately, as it was far easier to find new Defense teachers than fine Potions masters, Severus had been denied the opportunity.

"I will train that Gryffindor until she rivals even me," he whispered. "Let there never be any need of my Potions prowess again!"

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Hermione regarded her rooms with some bemusement. She had not exactly hoped to be living in the dungeons; she had always rather enjoyed being able to see the grounds from Gryffindor Tower. The thought that she would have no windows, no fresh air, was distinctly claustrophobic.

Dropping her bag just inside the doorway, Hermione ventured forward.

The sitting room wasn't terrible. A fair sized room with stone walls and a large fireplace, it was decorated with a few old tapestries. A large, red couch faced the fireplace, and the walls were lined with dark wooden bookcases. Behind the couch was a separate area of the same room,

which held a plain, dark wood table and four matching chairs. Hermione guessed that she could have food delivered from the kitchens if she so chose.

Two doors branched off of the sitting room. One led into a fair-sized bathroom with a large, luxurious marble tub with a matching sink and toilet. There was another door in the bathroom as well, which lead to the same place as the second door in the sitting room: the only other room in the suite, Hermione's bedroom.

It was spacious enough to hold a large four-poster bed of the same dark wood as everything else with a red coverlet and matching red curtains, along with a large wooden wardrobe, a trunk at the foot of the bed, and more bookcases. There was even space next to the bed for Crookshanks' basket, even if he refused to use it.

What really pleased Hermione were the tiny windows up at the very top of the wall behind her bed. The windows were so high they touched the ceiling, but they did allow in some of the mid-afternoon sun. Hermione could see a thin layer of snow, so she knew that her windows opened up right on the grounds.

"Lovely," Hermione murmured to herself.

Going back to the living room, she used her new fireplace to Floo to the Leaky Cauldron, for she had no fireplace in her cramped little flat. From there she Apparated home and began packing her things. Using charms to shrink her books, clothing, and knick-knacks, Hermione was able to fit all of her belongings into one carpet-bag.

It took a few minutes of coaxing to get Crookshanks into his travel-basket, which was already spelled for lightness, then Hermione Apparated back to the Leaky Cauldron and Flooed back to her new home. The whole excursion took about one hour.

Hermione was unpacking and resizing her books when she heard a curt knock on her door.

"It's open," she called.

"It may be unwise to leave doors unlocked in a school full of nosy students," Snape's deep voice came dryly from the now open doorway. "If I recall correctly, you yourself tended to do some unwarranted exploring, along with Potter and Weasley, of course."

"Good afternoon, Professor." Hermione inclined her head slightly, pausing in her unpacking. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Miss Granger. I trust you are well." Snape moved in to the sitting room, examining the books Hermione had already unpacked. "No serious problems?"

"No, Professor, thank you." Hermione resumed resizing books. _ Aside from being sacked_, she couldn't help but think. "And you?"

"Well, well." Snape replaced a book he had been skimming through.

Bored with small talk, Snape turned to other subjects. "Alright, down to business. You will have access to my private laboratory to brew anything you may need. I mostly use it to make Poppy's healing potions, but occasionally I do a bit of research. You make conduct any experiments you wish as long as you notify me beforehand; I wouldn't want any conflicts between our different works."

Hermione nodded.

"If you would like, I can show you the lab now. It's just down the hall."

"Certainly, sir."

Hermione resized one last book before wiping her hands on her trousers and turning towards her former teacher. At his raised brow she blushed, glancing down at her stomach. It had grown since she had last seen him.

Snape almost smiled, but not quite.

"Well, come along, it's this way."

Turning on his heel, Snape moved away, surrounded by billowing black robes.

_At least he hasn't lost his flair for the dramatic_, Hermione thought wryly. She followed him out her door, but she didn't bother closing it.

"Those are my chambers." Snape gestured towards the closed door directly across from Hermione's. "If there is ever any need, you may find me there, but I doubt that will be necessary."

From his tone of voice, Hermione knew that the only thing he would deem 'necessary' would be a major natural disaster, an attack from Voldemort, or if Hermione had spontaneously burst into flames.

Walking a small distance down the dark corridor, Snape stopped in front of another closed door. Drawing his wand, he tapped the door-knob once, and the door swung open with a groan. "I have already instructed the lock to accept your wand; there are no silly incantations involved. You merely tap it once and it should open. Well, come in."

Hermione followed Snape into the now exposed room. As he stepped in, the cold torches flared into life, lighting the room for Hermione to see.

It was a fair sized space with three long tables, each capable of supporting four medium sized cauldrons. In the corner a space had been cleared for one giant cauldron, large enough to brew enough Pepper-up Potion to support the entire castle for at least two years. The other corner held a stone sink, which stuck directly out from the wall.

Currently the work-tables were cleared, and shelves along the walls held a multitude of cauldrons. In varying sizes and materials, none were quite so large as the huge one in the corner. Some were silver, most were iron, there were a few copper and ceramic ones and one shining gold cauldron.

Hermione slowly walked around the perimeter of the lab, running her hand over the many cauldrons. "Pretty," she whispered to herself as she rubbed the gold one. "Wonder what you would brew in that."

Snape didn't answer.

"I keep a large variety of ingredients in there." He gestured towards a closed door, presumably a storage closet. "I should have everything you need, but if you can't find something, come to me, and I can order it. Don't worry about cost. The school is well-endowed and receives discounts from almost everywhere."

Pausing, Snape turned to Hermione, regarding her studiously. "I should warn you to be careful in there. Don't inhale any powders, even ones that seem harmless. In your condition anything could be potentially harmful."

Hermione flushed.

"Well, that's the lab. As you can see, I'm not currently brewing anything, but that is a rarity. Don't be afraid to come in here." Snape paused again, awkwardly. "Well, I'll see you at dinner."

With that he swirled dramatically out of the lab.

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Dinner that evening was surreal. It was both comforting and extremely odd to be back under the enchanted ceiling of Hogwarts' Great Hall. Stars glittered behind a thin veil of cloud, and the moon was a pale sliver in the false sky. Tiny snowflakes drifted lazily down, only to vanish above the students' heads.

None of this was strange; what was different for Hermione was the fact that rather than being seated at the Gryffindor table she had a seat next to Snape on the high table. Another strange thing was the sight of McGonagall in Dumbledore's seat. True, the elder witch had become Headmistress in Hermione's seventh year, but it was still strange not to see Dumbledore.

Upon walking into the mostly empty hall, Hermione had immediately been swept off her feet and crushed into a giant bear-hug from Hagrid. Never the same since Dumbledore's death, Hagrid sobbed into Hermione hair in happiness. "Oh, 'Ermione, it's great ter see ya. An' yer lookin' all grown-up. 'Ow's 'Arry an' Ron?"

"They're fine, Hagrid," Hermione gasped, hoping that Hagrid wasn't crushing her stomach. "Can you put me down?"

"Oh, o' course." Hagrid dropped her and leapt back clumsily. "Sorry, 'Mione. Got a little carried away."

"It's okay, Hagrid. I understand." Reaching up to link arms with Hagrid, Hermione guided him up to the head table, catching him up on the latest news.

Hagrid hadn't been able to make it to the wedding; he had grown increasingly reclusive in the last few years, rarely venturing off of Hogwarts' grounds. The rest of the teachers welcomed Hermione warmly, all remembering her fondly from her years as a student.

Hermione and the other teachers had already taken their seats before most of the students filed into the Great Hall; few noticed the new addition to their teaching staff. Only when the hall was almost full of loud, hungry students did McGonagall rise and call for silence.

"Good evening everyone," she began in her clear, clipped voice. "As some of you may have noticed, we have a new face among our staff. Hermione, dear, could you stand up?" She waved one imperious hand in Hermione's direction.

"You may remember her as the Head Girl three years ago, but now Professor Granger has become Professor Snape's teaching assistant and apprentice. You must all treat her with the same respect and deference that you would give to any other Hogwarts teacher."

She regarded them with a keen look for a moment, making sure they all understood. "Alright, back to your meal!"

Hermione picked at her food in disappointment, too nauseous to enjoy Hogwarts' excellent cooking.

"Not hungry, Miss Granger?" Professor Flitwick's squeaky little voice came from her elbow. He sat on several thick books and a cushion to reach the table.

"No, sir, my stomach's just a little upset." Hermione rubbed her little belly awkwardly. She didn't know if McGonagall had told the other teachers yet.

"Miss Granger is expecting," Snape subtly informed Flitwick, leaning across Hermione to grab the pitcher of wine in front of her.

"Congratulations, child!" Flitwick almost fell off of his perch in happiness. "Congratulations indeed!"

"If you are having trouble with morning sickness, I can brew you something to help," Snape added gruffly.

"I'm already taking some kind of multivitamin I received at St. Mungo's, and my research says it should be ending soon." Hermione sipped her water and bit into a slice of bread, the only things on the table she could bear to eat.

Snape shook his head, his greasy black hair moving with him. "This is something else; multivitamins don't do anything for the sickness."

"And even if the sickness will end soon, there's absolutely nothing wrong with treating it for now. If you wouldn't mind, I can show you how to make it after dinner. As my apprentice, I should be teaching you how to make these kinds of things."

"Thank you, sir." Hermione went back to shoving her food around her plate, sighing mournfully. "I'll be happy as long as I can eat again."

TBC...

A/N: Kind of an awkward ending, but that's the way it goes now and a


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Thanks for all the reviews: I'm glad people are enjoying this so much! I'm pretty sure that from this chapter forward I'll only be posting on because my beta has had this chapter for a few weeks and I still haven't seen any corrections, so I'm returning to the good old days of my previous stories where I don't bother with beta nonsense and just post here. Forget those other sites that require proof-reading: it may improve story quality, but it's a pain in the ass!

Chapter Six

Once they had finished eating, Hermione silently followed Snape out of the Great Hall and down deserted corridors. It was more than a little eerie, walking down empty hallways, completely devoid of student life. Added to that was the silent, slightly malevolent form of Severus Snape next to her. Hermione may have been a grown woman, but Snape still intimidated her. They walked in almost complete silence, the only sound the slightly harsh panting Hermione eventually resorted to after struggling to keep up with Snape's long strides for so long.

"Please, sir, could you slow down just a bit?" Hermione gasped out, "I'm quite a bit smaller than you are."

Flashing her a glance, Snape slowed imperceptibly. "Your pardon, Miss Granger; I wasn't thinking."

"Of course." Hermione breathed a little easier, now that they moved a little slower.

After several long moments of silence, Snape spoke without preamble, "Now, because you should not be experiencing morning sickness much longer, this will be mainly a lesson for you, so I expect you to pay careful attention to what I tell you. At Hogwarts, odds are you won't have much call for this potion, but it is a useful one and variations of it can easily be used to cure other forms of nausea."

"Of course, sir." Hermione looked like the idea of not paying careful attention was downright scandalous. Before she had the chance to point this out, they had reached the lab.

"This way." Snape brushed past Hermione, not bothering to hold the door open for her, but she had expected no less. "We are brewing a basic Morning Sickness Alleviation Potion. All of he ingredients we will be using are completely harmless and natural, so there's no risk in you helping with the brewing."

"I need you to go into the closet and collect for me the following ingredients: one bunch of dried chamomile, one cup of powdered ginger root, a sprig of fresh mint, one moonstone, five pomegranate seeds along with one-fourth cup of pomegranate juice, and one unicorn hair."

Hermione raised one eyebrow, unconsciously mimicking one of Snape's favorite facial expressions. "I can understand most of the ingredients, but not the moonstone, and unicorn hair seems a bit excessive, don't you think?"

"Moonstone is used as a balancing variable in many potions. It balances the other ingredients and will help keep you balanced."

Snape was already collecting a medium-sized iron cauldron from the shelves running around the room and preparing the work area as he spoke. "And the unicorn hair, though valuable, seals and lends strength to all of the healing done in this potion, because morning sickness is a natural process, and thus all the harder to cure."

Hermione nodded, moving to collect the ingredients.

"Now, one exceedingly convenient aspect of this potion is that the ingredients require no preparation." Snape poured one liter of fresh water into the cauldron, which was already resting over a small flame. "It has a water base, which also means that the largest ingredient is ready to hand no matter what. Once the water is boiling, it is simply a matter of adding the ingredients in the order I told you to with exactly three minutes between each separate ingredient."

Using his wand, Snape brought the water to a boil and dropped the chamomile leaves in and proceeded to stir the water three times. "You must also stir the potion three times clockwise after adding each ingredient and three times before adding the next ingredient."

They sat in silence, watching the potion slowly bubble, and Hermione became engrossed in the play of steam above the tumultuous water. Normally she wasn't one to sit quiet and still with nothing to do; she generally kept a book handy to avoid idleness. But in this moment, it was enough to watch the play of steam and water as her potion steeped.

Still silently, Snape suddenly stirred the potion three times exactly. He had pale hands, the same as the rest of his body, but they were not thin or graceful as one would expect of a Potions Master. Rather, Snape had large, powerful hands that looked more likely to bumble awkwardly than to move with the self-assured elegance Snape exhibited.

"Now the ginger." He said as he poured the powdered ginger root into the potion, stirring three times again.

For twelve minutes more, they sat in near silence and stillness, Snape only moving to stir the potion or add more ingredients.

Three minutes after he had added the unicorn hair, Snape stirred the potion, doused the fire, and declared it complete.

"Now we must strain out the solids in the potion."

Snape pointed to something behind Hermione.

Upon turning she found a sieve on the shelf along with the cauldrons and brought it down. She set the sieve over another, clean cauldron and watched as Snape poured the contents of the first cauldron through the sieve.

"The only salvageable ingredient here would be the moonstone, which will either have to be soaked in a purifying potion for a week, or it can be reused in other, similar potions." Snape extracted the small stone, placed it on the worktable, and cleared the rest of the mess in the sieve into the sink. "Now you only have to wait for the potion to cool before it can be bottled."

"Thank you, sir, that was fascinating." Hermione spoke sincerely.

Snape nodded brusquely. "The potion should be taken twice a day, morning and night, and is most effective if you eat an apple with it. A regular dose would be one tablespoon; the unicorn hair makes it potent. I would recommend you take it every day for one week, then stop for a few days and if the sickness endures continue taking the potion for another week."

"Yes, sir." Hermione nodded. The potion had cooled now; the cauldrons were spelled to cool potions quickly once heat was removed. She collected a dozen vials from the supplies closet and filled them quickly. "Should I keep all of these?"

"No, the potion will keep indefinitely with a simple sealing spell, so only take two bottles for now and I will keep the rest in case they eventually become necessary."

Gathering her vials and a small bowl of Floo powder from the supplies cabinet, Hermione inclined her head briefly and returned to her new rooms.

Crookshanks was already curled up on Hermione's couch, and somehow he managed to fill the entire couch despite the fact that Hermione knew he was far too small. Hermione used her Floo powder to ask the house elves to send her some apples, which were quickly delivered, so she could take her potion.

"Shove over, you lazy cat you." Hermione shifted Crookshanks affectionately so that she too could occupy the couch. "I need to take some medicine."

Hermione took a small bite of one of the apples, still a little queasy, and followed it with a tablespoon of potion. It was as if a wave of relief was sweeping down her body, starting in her throat and slowly spreading downward. By the time the potion had reached her stomach Hermione felt better than she had in weeks. Smiling, she ate the rest of her apple in silence, relishing the cool crunch of it between her teeth.

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Severus sat before his fire, gazing into the wavering flames. He had, in spite of himself, been impressed by Granger. She had been competent and obedient, and had seemed interested in learning how to brew the potion. It had surprised him to see a young witch, still so dedicated to learning. What had particularly pleased him had been her ability to stand with him in perfect silence, seemingly un-hindered by the strange need in most to make idle conversation. Severus had long ago grown used to solitude and the idea of small talk still escaped him. Words should be used only when necessary or only to share valuable thoughts, of which he found few in most people he spoke to. Granger had been a pleasant respite from that.

Rising, Severus moved towards his liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of scotch, his customary late-night drink, and returned to his seat before the fire. It had been strange to enjoy another human being's company after so long. Until that moment Severus had not realized how lonely he truly was. He had learned to cope with his life-long loneliness years ago, pushing the empty feeling down within himself so deeply that eventually he forgot it entirely. Albus, while he was still alive, had been one of the few people that Severus spent time with. After the headmaster's death–his murder–Severus had felt an overwhelming sense of loss and loneliness, but with time those feelings had faded into a dull, aching grief. Until he had felt less alone, Severus had completely forgotten his lonesomeness. Now that he was alone once more Severus could feel his loneliness returning.

"Damn you old man!" Severus cried suddenly. "Are you happy now that I'm completely alone?" Severus' hand was shaking, causing the ice-cubes in his drink to clink against the glass and one another. He downed the scotch, hardly wincing at the strength of the liquid as it burned its way down his throat and into his stomach, warming him pleasantly. "It should have been me," Severus murmured, anguish tightening his throat as he glared at the ice remaining in his glass.

"_Headmaster, you can't possibly expect–"_

"_Can't I, Severus? You would be astonished at some of my expectations, especially when it has come to you. And so far, you have yet to disappoint me. So why should I expect now to be any different?"_

"_But, Headmaster–"_

"_For heaven's sake, Severus, if not for me, say you'll do this for the Order."_

"_As if you need any such promise from me, Headmaster. If I've already made my oath, and since you seem set against sending me away, I really have no fucking choice, do I?"_

"_Even if you did, Severus, I have faith that you would make the right decision."_

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Had Severus made the right decision? He had obeyed the headmaster's orders, had committed his sin, and now... Now nothing. There was no going back. For better or for worse, Severus had done what he had done, and nothing could change that now. So why agonize over an impossibility?

"Because it's all I have left..." Severus murmured, running his hands over his face.

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The next morning found Hermione feeling better than she had in weeks. The absence of her usual nausea did more than calm her stomach, it also calmed her nerves. Humming, Hermione dosed herself another tablespoon of potion, ate an apple, and got herself ready for her first day of work. The prospect of teaching was not an unpleasant one: Hermione had always hoped to become a teacher someday. Of course, she had thought she would be older, perhaps a bit wiser, and have a much wider age gap between herself and her students, but life was impossible to predict and this was how things had turned out. In private Hermione could admit to herself that the prospect of teaching students who had been in school when she had unnerved her, but she would never allow herself to admit this to anyone else, not even under torture.

So Hermione dressed herself in stern black robes with little silver hook and eye fastenings that clipped together from neck to ankle. The robes draped at the arms and billowed slightly at the hem, a choice Hermione had made in part to keep from being over-shadowed by Snape's immense sense of the dramatic. The bodice of the robes was slightly form fitting, but it was soft and giving to keep from crushing her stomach. Looking in a mirror Hermione could barely recognize herself.

"Oh god, I really do look like Snape's apprentice," she muttered to herself, inspecting her reflection carefully. "Well, I might as well play the part." She grinned evilly to herself, thinking about the possibilities that this offered.

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Breakfast passed rather uneventfully. Headmistress McGonagle exclaimed over the starkness of Hermione's robes, but offered her compliments as well for such an interesting and rather flattering style. Snape's only response was to raise and eyebrow quizzically, to which Hermione blushed slightly and smiled as cheekily as she could. Snape didn't know whether he was being mocked or complimented, and as such didn't know whether to respond with mirth or irritation. He opted to ignore her antics, and hoped she would get bored with them.

Too soon for her liking Hermione was sitting at the head of Snape's classroom, waiting alongside him for the bunch of first years to file in and take their seats. She was at first excited then worried to note that half of the class displayed Gryffindor's gold and scarlet. She was happy to teach her old house, but nervously anticipated Snape's predictably negative treatment of them. The other house appeared to be Slytherins, but Hermione decided that she was far too mature to let that bother her.

The first years remembered Hermione from dinner the night before, and a few tried to give her friendly looks. Most of them seemed daunted by her stark robes and even starker expression, fearing that her physical resemblance to Snape might mark a similar resemblance in personality and temperament.

"Good morning class," Snape murmured as the class finished filing in. "If you are quite finished ogling Miss Granger we may begin. And might I remind you that you are to give her the same respect and deference you are supposed to offer to me."

Just as Snape finished his little speech the door burst open and two breathless first year boys wearing gold and scarlet scarves stumbled into the classroom. They were scrawny little things and one clutched a roll in his hands while the other tried to chew a huge mouthful and catch his breath at the same time. "Mr. Martin, Mr. Kooley, I'm pleased you decided to grace us with your presence. Fifteen points from Gryffindor and a detention with Filch for your tardiness. Please take your seats."

Hermione frowned at the sneer Snape was giving the two boys, but held her tongue. They had been tardy after all, and contradicting Snape in front of his students was a sure way to make trouble for herself. Watching the two boys, who looked rather satisfied with the public scolding they had received, Hermione wasn't sure who they resembled more: Fred and George or Harry and Ron.

"Today's lesson is on a basic healing drought that even you lot ought to be able to master fairly quickly. You're instructions are on the board." Snape waved an absent hand at the chalkboard and instructions appeared. "Miss Granger and I will be monitoring you're activities carefully." Aside to Hermione Snape quietly said, "Any fumes they might create shouldn't affect you, but if you see any kind of red or violent smoke, or if the potion begins to bubble more than it should, signal me and step back to a safe distance immediately." Hermione nodded her acquiescence and set off into the crowd of students and cauldrons.

_They're so little,_ Hermione thought to herself as she watched the first-years chop ingredients industriously. _Were we ever that little?_ Only once during the class did Hermione feel any sense of alarm, as one first year absently dumped an ingredient into the cauldron. The steam rising from his potion turned slightly pink, but quickly reverted to it's natural white. Hermione reflected on how well planned Snape's curriculum was: potions like this were extremely forgiving and easy to fix if any mistakes were to occur. Hermione marveled at how truly dreadful Neville must have been to have struggled as much as he had.

Hermione ended up only helping one student over the course of the class, and her quiet assistance seemed to unnerve the poor girl more than her advice helped. Hermione only smiled reassuringly and tried to seem nonthreatening: the girl reminded her so much of Neville that it almost hurt. Eventually the eleven year olds left and were replaced by a group of boisterous fourth year students.

This group had been first years during Hermione's seventh year and they all seemed to remember her as the studious, but friendly Head Girl. A few of the boys were even feeling bold enough to wink at her and, when she walked through the class to offer help they attempted to flirt with her. That quickly stopped when Hermione started deducting house points.

After that class there was a group of second years, who were more secure than the first years but not nearly as confident as the fourth years, then a third year class, then fifth years. The fifth years also remembered Hermione, but had the sense and decency to offer her some respect. Hermione also noticed that their impending O.W.L.s seemed to weigh them down and forced them to at least try to focus on their work. The last class of the day was Advanced Potions where the students, several of whom Hermione had known at least passingly well, treated her with respect and camaraderie.

In between all of these classes Hermione heartily dug into her lunch, savoring the feeling of being able to enjoy food again. After the classes were over Hermione dosed herself with more medicine, ate her dinner, and graded homework in her living room. Although Snape had barely spoken to her all day, Hermione could sense his grudging approval of the way she had conducted herself.

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Hermione quickly fell into the Hogwart's routine. Before she knew it Hermione had already spent a month at her old home, constantly distracted by helping Snape with his lessons, grading papers and tutoring students who needed extra help in the evenings. Snape scowled at this practice of hers, but kept his silence. As long as she didn't want his help in tutoring the brats he didn't care how she spent her spare time. Although her morning sickness continued for a couple of weeks longer than was average, Hermione's body eventually adjusted to the presence of a fetus in her uterus and she stopped feeling ill. It was with immense relief that Hermione sealed her vials of nausea potion and stored them in her medicine cabinet.

On Sunday afternoons Hermione had taken to having tea with McGonagle in the headmistress' office. One such Sunday in late February, when Hermione was in her fourth month of pregnancy, McGonagle commented on Hermione's appearance.

"Well, you were showing a bit when you started here, but you look much more pregnant now, dear," McGonagle commented, eyeing Hermione's belly. Because there were no classes for the day Hermione had put away her customary strict black robes and was wearing a flowy white dress which draped over her slight bulge of a stomach attractively but rather noticeably. "Haven't your students noticed anything?"

"Headmistress, they're teenagers. Even if they weren't too busy worrying how they look to notice my appearance, most of them are too afraid or polite to mention anything, on the off-chance that I'm not pregnant, merely fat." Hermione giggled as she nibbled on a crumpet. "Not to say that I'm not getting inexcusably fat, but I suppose being pregnant makes it alright."

"Well, I never had any children of my own, as you well know, Miss Granger." McGonagle smiled a little sadly. "But from what I know of other women you might want to try not to gain too much, because it's easier to gain than to lose, especially with a newborn to look after."

"I suppose you're right," Hermione ceded. "It was just nice to let myself go for a little while and feel entitled, I suppose." After that Hermione began to watch what she ate a little better and tried to take daily walks around the lake. After all, she loved and admired Mrs. Weasley, but she didn't really want to become her.

Meanwhile, over the course of the month Hermione's working relationship with Snape was steadily improving. For her own part Hermione respected and admired Snape as an academic and as a professor, but enjoyed her social interactions with the other teachers more on a personal level. Snape found her to be neat, organized, quiet and obedient and admired her for that. The latter two traits were quite a difference from her school days, Snape observed wryly. The more they worked together the more he appreciated her presence, and the more he feared his moments alone where the overwhelming loneliness came flooding back.

In the evenings Severus grew increasingly uneasy and irritable. He drank more, paced more, and angrily spoke to himself and the ghost of the headmaster in his mind. The effect that Granger had on Severus made him so unsettled that he became furious with himself for allowing the witch to gain such a hold on him. The worst part was that he had begun to dream again, no matter how much scotch or dreamless sleep potions he dosed himself with.

_Severus stood on an empty road in the center of a large cluster of woods, possibly a forest. He didn't know where he was, but he could observe and deduce that much. Ahead of him the road stretched on into eternity, an eternity of empty road and abandoned woods. When Severus tried to turn around to go back the way he had come, where ever that might have been, he found that he could not turn. All he could do was continue on this path._

_After walking for some time Severus eventually came to a fork in the road. To his left was Dumbledore's smiling face, and to his right was Dumbledore's dead body, crumpled, pathetic and utterly without dignity. As hard as Severus tried to choose the left path, his feet could not be compelled away from the path he had embarked upon even before he knew where he was. It was inescapable, and heartbreaking in it's permanence, but Severus was forced upon this path that he had taken, for better or for worse._

_As Severus gave up and, sadly, allowed his feet to guide him to the right, Dumbledore's body disappeared and once again Severus was faced with no option but to continue forward along this path. He could stop walking no more than he could turn around._

_Eventually Severus found himself at another crossroads. Only this time, rather than two paths, both bearing Dumbledore's likeness, Severus was faced with multiple roads, too many to count in fact. Slowly, he faced each path, but as soon as he had looked squarely at whatever each road held, he was facing the next. Most of the images flashed past before he could interpret what they held, but the few he saw clearly were just as incomprehensible as the blurred images of the other forks. One road held Potter, hand glowing and eyes spitting green fire as he regarded Snape in utter hatred. Another held Potter, limp at the feet of Voldemort. Another path held the two clasping hands, encompassed in an evil red glow. The road after that held Potter carefully aiming his wand at a Voldemort on his knees, begging. Then there were two roads depicting Hogwarts, one where the castle looked as it always had, and another where the school was on fire. The final road that Severus saw clearly was the most confusing of all. All it held was a woman, hands clasped over a rounded stomach, brown eyes smiling at him warmly, brown hair framing her face as it fluttered slightly in a breeze he could not feel. Such an aura of power and security emanated from the woman that, without realizing what he was doing, Severus had taken an unconscious step towards the woman. _

_Immediately all the other paths had vanished, the woman had spread her arms open in welcome, and Severus had recognized her as Granger. Then he woke up._

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Severus woke up sweating and panting, his sheets drenched in his sweat. His hands were shaking as he ran them over his damp face.

"That was weird," Severus murmured.


	7. Chapter 7

Many thanks for all of the reviews. So, now Deathly Hallows is out and all of the guesswork is over. My story is still pretty much HBP compliant, but not Deathly Hallows compliant, so there you have it. Anyway, I'm going to continue this story and see it through to the end.

WARNING: DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILER IN THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter Seven

Hermione could tell that Snape was seriously considering strangling the boy in front of him. For his part Martin wasn't helping any; the cowed and apologetic expression he was attempting to pull off did little to mask his pleasure at having upset the professor this much. The longer Snape insulted and berated the boy, the happier he was and the angrier Snape became. Considering the eleven year old was a child, a Gryffindor, and a fairly clever person, Hermione decided to intervene and save the ungrateful boy's neck. Feigning clumsiness, Hermione casually knocked over a vial of worm mucus from a nearby Slytherin boy's desk.

"Miss Granger, try to reign in your clumsiness!" Snape barked out at the sound of shattering glass.

"Forgive me, sir, I felt a bit light headed for a moment," Hermione lied with quick dexterity. "I'll clean it up."

Much to her surprise, Snape actually looked concerned. "No need, Granger," he muttered quietly, brows furrowed in worry. "You should sit down. Crawten, mop that up immediately before it hardens," he ordered the Slytherin boy who's desk the vial had come from. "Miss Granger, do you need to visit the Hospital Wing?"

His surprising concern actually made Hermione feel guilty at having lied. "No sir, really, I feel much better now. It was just some momentary dizziness, nothing to worry about." She smiled thinly, trying to look reassuring. At her feet Crawten was dragging a damp rag across her mess, scowling at the mucus.

Snape nodded brusquely and the class continued. The first years now cast fascinated glances at Hermione and furtive ones at Snape, trying to decipher what this exchange could have meant.

For the life of her, Hermione had no idea what it had meant either. It was the end of February now and, after working together for about a month and a half, she and Snape had developed a civil and very orderly working arrangement. They mostly kept out of one another's and, when they were forced to interact, always did so with the utmost courtesy and respect. Snape never bothered to ask after her health or the weather or how she was feeling or anything even resembling small talk, and Hermione did him the favor of doing the same. This new care for her well-being was a bit unsettling.

By the end of the lesson the first years had lost interest in Hermione and Snape and had completed their potions, most of them successfully. Snape had returned to his usual scowl and had spent the rest of the class berating the Gryffindors and removing house points. Hermione pushed the matter to the back of her mind, deciding that whatever it had meant couldn't be important enough to ask about.

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Severus' scowl was not merely a reflection for his complete disdain of the first year Gryffindors. Inwardly he was cursing himself for the way he had acted. What concern was it of his if the foolish Granger girl wasn't taking proper care of herself and had grown lightheaded? And what could have possessed him to treat act as though he cared, and in front of a group of eleven year olds no less!

It had been a week since his strange dream and Severus still had no idea what to think of it. His original opinion of the dream had been that it was odd, but easily ignored: dreams were always utter nonsense anyway. Severus was not one of those foolish wizards who prescribed to divination as an actual, credible source of information. However there had been something striking about that particular dream, and something that felt alarmingly real about it. And at any rate, the fact that he had been dreaming about Hermione Granger was disturbing in and of itself.

Since the dream Severus had found himself giving her sidelong glances, trying to figure out what drove his subconscious to bring her to his attention. Catching himself looking at the girl, Severus grew irritable and moodier than usual, angry at both himself and the young witch.

As Severus looked over to where Granger was now tidying up after the mess the first years had left behind he cursed himself and stood up from his desk where he had been sorting through the homework he had collected at the start of the class.

"That will do, Granger," Severus told her curtly. "Leave the house-elves with something to do, will you? And shouldn't you maybe sit down every now and then? All this standing can't be good for one in...your position." Somehow he made the idea of pregnancy into an insult just for her.

Stiffening with insulted Gryffindor pride, Hermione nodded brusquely and swept out of the classroom without a word, managing to mimic Severus' trademark swirling robes with considerable success.

"I really am training a passable replacement," Severus murmured to himself with great irony.

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Hermione marched out of the dungeons, slightly irritated with Snape's imperious tone and the implication that her pregnancy was some kind of debilitation. Cradling her stomach, Hermione made her way towards the kitchens. The house-elves were always able to procure whatever Hermione might be craving. Tonight it was cookie dough, lots and lots of cookie dough. Now somewhat excited, Hermione made her way to the kitchen.

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At the kitchen Hermione got caught up talking to Dobby: it seemed her remembered her as Harry Potter's friend and wanted someone to reminisce about the good old days with. Dobby also seemed to feel that the more treats he gave to Hermione the better. So, when Hermione left the kitchen much later she was in a very good mood and was carrying extra cookie dough for later. As she passed the lab on her way back to her own room she thought she heard someone talking. Creeping towards the cracked door, careful to move as silently as possible, Hermione pressed her ear to the space between the door and it's frame and listened. At first she had thought it might be Snape speaking to someone, but as it turned out it was merely Snape speaking to himself.

"Foolish old bastard of a man," he muttered furiously as he paced back and forth around a gently steaming cauldron. "Do this Severus, do that Severus...as if I'd never had anything better to do than obey the mad whims of an old crackpot!" Watching from the crack in the door, Hermione bit her lip, chewing it thoughtfully as she watched the irate potions master. "Of all the damned things to ask a man to do...but I did it, didn't I? I did as I was told, just like any other stupid pawn."

He grew quieter in his muttering, and Hermione thought that she heard him speak her own name. Leaning closer to decipher his words she accidently pressed the door, making it creak slightly. Snape immediately froze and stopped speaking, whirling around with his wand drawn to look at the door. Slowly, carefully, he began to approach the door, and Hermione who stood behind it. Silently cursing herself, Hermione backed away from the lab and raced back to her own rooms. The lab was only a few feet down the hall from her own set of rooms, so Hermione managed to make it into her room and lock the door by the time that Snape had roughly jerked open the lab door, finding no one behind it.

Back in her sitting room, leaning against the door with her heart racing at almost having been hexed by Severus Snape, Hermione could only gaze at the fire before her in bewilderment.

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The next morning at breakfast, Hermione carefully watched Snape from beneath her eyelashes. He looked normal enough, sitting next to McGonagle, eating little and speaking only when spoken to. He didn't look like a man who would lock himself in a deserted laboratory and talk to himself. But it seemed that he was such a man. Whatever was wrong with Snape, Hermione felt a strange innate desire to help him. Or, at the very least, find out if his problems could jeopardize her own position as his assistant. But so far she could detect nothing wrong.

Snape finished his breakfast, still doing nothing noteworthy, and he proceeded to the classroom and his lessons, still doing nothing out of the ordinary. Throughout the day Snape continued on the business of Potions Master without doing anything strange of unexpected. Hermione knew this because she spent the entire day watching him out of the corners of her eyes. As the two of them tidied up the classroom at the end of the last class of the day, Snape finally lost his patience with her spying.

"Ms. Granger, if there is something on my face, will you please let me know? If not, could you kindly stop your incessant staring?" Snape snapped as he shoved a chair into it's rightful place behind a desk. "I know that you've been peering at me all day, and I'm just wondering if there were any particular reason why?"

Hermione blushed, embarrassed at having been caught. She had thought she was being more discreet than that. "I was just wondering, sir," she began awkwardly. "If there were anything wrong. Maybe if there were anything you might need to talk about?"

Snape regarded her coolly, icy gaze slowly moving up and down her entire body, making her blush even redder. "No, Ms. Granger, nothing is wrong. While you're concern..." he sneered at this. "...touches me, if I did have some sort of problem, I can assure you that you would be the last person I would wish to speak with about it." With that he turned crisply on his heel and, with a swirl of his black robes, left the classroom.

"That went well," Hermione muttered under her voice, feeling like a complete idiot.

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So, Severus thought to himself. Granger cared about his well-being. That was distinctly odd. He had to admit to himself, in the privacy of his own thoughts, that the idea of another human being actually caring about what befell him felt rather nice. Even if that other human being did happen to be an irritating, know-it-all witch with more books that common sense and an ever-growing pregnant belly. Even a foolish girl half his age was better than no one at all.

And Severus had berated her, shamed her for her concern. Returned her regard with nothing but disdain. Well, that had ever been Severus' way, hadn't it? Back in school when Lily Evans... Lily Potter... He had never been particularly skilled at accepting any kindness, from any source, no matter how guileless and open-handed.

Severus chewed his dinner without tasting it. His sharp comments to Granger had been more reflex than anything else, an automatic response brought forth by the surprise of Granger's kindness. Now it was his turn to glance at her from the corners of his eyes and out from beneath heavy-hooded lids. He, at least, was a great-deal more adept at observing others without alerting them to what he was doing.

Granger appeared only marginally affected by his flat-out rejection of her earlier, and was eating her meal with an extremely healthy appetite. Severus, rolling his eyes to himself, wished he could be half as enthusiastic about anything as Hermione Granger appeared to be about food. He doubted it was possible. The girl dug into a highly piled plate, cheeks pink with enjoyment of her meal as she chattered cheerfully with Professor Flitwick. Occasionally she would accidentally cast a casual glance in Severus' direction, and then her pink cheeks would flush to a darker shade in remembered embarrassment. But aside from those brief, uncomfortable moments she seemed fine.

Severus only wished that he could feel fine as well.

TBC...

No preview because I don't have anything written for the next chapter yet. I didn't have one last chapter either, but you'll all just have to deal with it!!! Anywho, sorry this chapter's short. I had trouble even writing this much. Oh well.

SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT!

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RIP Severus Snape. You have been extremely well-loved :'(


	8. Chapter 8

So, it occurred to me right after I posted the last chapter that I was posting the 7th chapter the day the 7th book came out. I just thought that was kind of special. At any rate, here's number 8! And thanks for all the great feedback from everyone!!!!

Happy (belated) birthday Harry Potter!

Chapter 8

Over the next two weeks Severus watched Hermione Granger. He wasn't stalking her; it wasn't as if he followed her around of hid in places she frequented in the hopes of catching her there: he merely watched her. He observed the way that she ate, the way she crinkled her nose when she thought something was funny, and the way that she chewed her bottom lip whenever she was concentrating on something. He even saw how, occasionally, when she thought no one was looking, she would stare vacantly into space with a dreamy expression on her face and cradle her stomach with both hands.

Severus was hard put to explain his new pastime even to himself, so he chose not to think about his motives and instead focused his attention on observing the girl and analyzing what he learned of her. With the students she was firm but patient and always willing to help. With the staff she was respectful and friendly. She was always oddly polite to house elves and frequently held conversations with the portraits, something Severus had seen no one but Albus do.

But, other than her tea-times with Minerva, Hermione Granger largely kept to herself. Based on the mail she received from the owls she appeared to keep up correspondence with several people, but amongst the staff and students of Hogwarts, Granger made no real connections. She was polite and cordial with everyone, but close to no one. For their parts, all of the teachers were happy enough to talk to her, remembering her very fondly from her school years. But the large age gap between Granger and the rest of the staff, not to mention the still-fresh student/teacher relationship she shared with all of them. Granger had more in common with the seventh years than with her new colleagues, but she was also not close to any of them, once again separated by the teacher/student dynamic.

But Severus thought it went deeper than that. Granger had never had many friends, although she had always, after her first year at least, gotten on well enough with the other Gryffindors and most of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Still, as far as Severus could tell from his rather vague recollections, she had always kept the other students as casual acquaintances, rather than actual friends. She had confined her friendships to Potter and Weasley and the small group of children who followed them about.

So, Severus had to conclude that Granger was a loner, much like himself. She, however, unlike Severus had managed to procure a small group of friends despite her anti-social tendencies. Certainly Severus had many close acquaintances, some who might even call him their own friend, but the only friend that Severus had ever had had been Albus Dumbledore. There was one other person who had attempted to get past his harsh exterior, but Severus had been to foolish to allow her, despite his own yearning for her... But that was of no moment.

Severus could not help but compare Granger to himself, and surprisingly enough his comparisons were increasingly positive. He admired her strict professionalism, her stern work-ethic, and her ability at brewing potions. The only thing he found any fault with was her treatment of their students; she was, to his thinking, far too lenient with them. But even if she was not strict enough, she was picking up on his teaching methods well enough and her skill with potions would serve her well in teaching the subject.

Severus came to know a great deal about Hermione Granger's habits and personality over his two weeks of observation. The only thing he could not know was why she fascinated him so much.

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Hermione had now settled completely into her new life at Hogwarts. As she felt her baby growing inside of her, she felt as though she were growing within Hogwarts, becoming more fully herself than she had been since she had left these halls. She had only left the castle a few times since starting her apprenticeship, once to visit her parents and once to visit Ron for his birthday. Now, in the middle of March, Hermione was four and a half months pregnant and it was time for her to make a visit to St. Mungo's for a checkup with her doctor.

When Hermione had requested the time off Snape had, of course, been irritable and unencouraging until she had told him why. When informed that Hermione needed to see a doctor about her condition his sallow cheeks had flushed slightly and he had waved her off uncomfortably. So, early on a Friday morning in mid-March, Hermione had ventured down the path from the castle to Hogsmeade and disapparated right outside the Hogwarts gates.

She apparated in the lobby of St. Mungo's and was quickly escorted to the OB/GYN sector of the building. The healer who had originally diagnosed her was a general healer, so on this visit she was introduced to Healer Stevens.

"So, Miss Granger," Healer Stevens said in a clear, high voice as she looked over Hermione's chart. "I see that it's been some time since your last check-up. Might I ask why?"

"Oh." Hermione's cheeks reddened and she plucked at her sleeves nervously. "I've been rather busy actually. Quite some upheaval, I guess you'd say, since I first found out. I had to change jobs and move and I supposed I just wasn't thinking." She felt embarrassed and had troubled meeting Healer Stevens' too-clear eyes. "But I have been taking the vitamins I was prescribed," Hermione added weakly.

Healer Stevens continued to regard her slightly coldly. "Well, we'll just see what we can, shall we?" She lifted her wand. "Will the father be joining us?"

Hermione blushed a darker shade of red. "There isn't, strictly speaking, a father," she stumbled over the words. "Anyway, it'll just be us."

"I see." Healer Stevens straightened her glasses and slowly ran her wand up and down Hermione's body. A pale film of silvery light engulfed Hermione's growing frame. "Well everything looks normal," Stevens murmured, her eyes oddly unfocused as she saw something in the film that Hermione couldn't make out. "You're lucky you've been so healthy. If there had been any complications there may have been no way of knowing." She continued to scan Hermione with her blank gaze. As she reached Hermione's stomach she stopped. "And there's the baby. Here, just a moment now." She performed a small figure-eight over Hermione's stomach and an image started to form. "There, you are, can you see that?"

Hermione looked down and gasped in wonder. The tiny figure moved constantly, and it often looked more like a blob than anything else, but she could clearly make out a little form. Unexpected tears rushed to her eyes and began to stream silently down her cheeks as she cupped her stomach in shaking hands. "That's the most incredible thing I've ever seen..." Hermione whispered in awe.

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Hermione extended the photograph proudly, her other hand clutching her stomach and her cheeks flushed a healthy pink. "Professor McGonagall, look what the healer gave me!" She had resisted the strong urge to run into the great hall upon her return to Hogwarts and had instead strode down the aisle to the head table with great decorum. But she could not resist the gushing tone her voice adopted as she brandished the sonogram photo around. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Why, dear, that's incredible," McGonagall responded kindly, patting Hermione's hand and returning the picture. "So the baby's healthy, then?"

"Yes, ma'am." Taking her seat, Hermione began to fill her plate with great vigor. "Everything was normal and the baby is doing just fine."

"Do you know the sex, Miss Granger?" Professor Flitwick chimed in cheerfully.

"No, sir, I didn't want to find out. I'd like to be surprised when the time comes," Hermione bubbled away, annoying herself slightly with her new, upbeat attitude.

"Miss Granger, if you do not curb your exuberance, I may vomit," Snape drawled dryly, cutting through the cheerful dinner conversation like a knife. "I am trying to eat my dinner, not have a baby shower."

Hermione's face stiffened and grew pale. "Well, sir, perhaps if you do not like the subject of conversation, you should just leave the table!" The words were out before she could stop herself, and she immediately went from deathly pale to burning cheeks. "Sir, I–"

But she was prevented from apologizing as Snape began to laugh. It was a sark chuckle, something akin to a low cough. "Nice backbone, Granger," he murmured, black eyes sparkling slightly, as he withdrew from the high table and exited the great hall.

"Um, what?" Hermione asked no one in particular.

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Severus Snape was busy in his lab, brewing several potions, one of which was experimental. Severus sometimes regretted that he had less time to work on his own potions, as he was too busy keeping the castle well-stocked and watching over the potions of the ungrateful brats he taught. That was one reason why he so desired the Defense Against the Dark Arts position: then the only potions he would be forced to brew would be for his own curiosity or pleasure.

The thought of brewing a potion for pleasure stopped him in his tracks as he leaned over his experiment. He had no real intentions for this potion as yet: it was a method of his to combine whatever ingredients that struck his fancy–with exceptions for possibly volatile combinations–and to see if anything useful had been created. As he gazed at his newest creation, which was now a pale turquoise, it occurred to him that by adding powdered rose quartz, dried lilies and perhaps a bit of veela sweat he could create a powerful lust potion. He chuckled at the thought.

He leaned over even deeper, smelling the simmering liquid, which smelled interestingly of cinnamon and honey, before his already sallow face turned even paler and he stiffened. Somehow, as he thought with amusement of lust potions and their often humorous effects, Granger had popped into his mind. Muttering a curse, he pulled back from his potion and moved with ill-grace and a frightful scowl to stir and tend to his various other brews.

The girl was beginning to get to him. He was thinking of her at odd, extremely confusing moments and he would have none of it. His own trick of observing her had turned on him and she was getting under his skin. He had even rewarded her insolence the previous day by complimenting her nerve. Severus Snape was definitely slipping.

"I'm becoming mad as Albus Dumbledore in my old age," he muttered to himself, observing his reflection in a crystal clear healing potion he was brewing for Poppy. "Some foolish young witch stands up to me and I actually...admire her for it." Scoffing in disgust, he observed his greasy hair and unnaturally white skin. His black eyes were sunken in a face that smiled too infrequently and seemed to have an eternal scowl affixed to it. He looked old. "It must be all the drinking," he murmured. "The liquor is softening my brain. That must be it."

As he grudgingly admitted to himself that he admired the irritating girl, Severus could not help but feel a bit depressed as he regarded his own countenance. Perhaps he could grow to have some sort of regard for an annoying, bushy-haired know-it-all with a baby on the way and an ever-widening frame, but he could not imagine how any woman, let alone a young one, might find anything worthwhile in a dried-up old husk of a murderer such as himself.

Sudden despair washed over Severus as he realized he could never have something he wasn't even particularly certain he wanted. With a last check on each steaming cauldron in the lab, Severus left the slightly smoky room and retired to his rooms and a much needed glass of scotch.

"So what if it's decaying my mind," he mumbled as he knocked back his second glass. "I'd rather have a rotted brain than have to think such nonsense."

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Hermione was in an oddly good mood. She felt relatively healthy, she knew her baby was doing well, and she felt settled in and content with her new home and job. Forget the fact that her ass was as big as a house and all of her clothing was too tight, Hermione was down-right cheerful. And, best of all, there were blackberry waffles for breakfast and Hermione was happily gorging herself, ignorant of the slightly sickened and frightened glances of her fellow staff-members as she devoured her third helping.

"Hungry, dear?" Flitwick asked politely, quivering a bit on his stack of books.

"Ravenous, professor," Hermione mumbled through a large, rather un-ladylike mouthful of pancake. "The baby adores blackberries."

"Miss Granger, could you kindly refrain from speaking while your mouth is full?" Snape asked icily, wrinkling his nose at her in disdain. "As if the sight of you...consuming everything in front of you were not enough, I don't feel the need to be shown your half-chewed food at this particular moment." Observing Hermione's blush, Snape continued with an unpleasant smirk. "Did you plan on moving on to the table after you eat all the food in the building, or can the furniture rest safely?"

"Begging your pardon, _sir_," Hermione stressed the title, making it sound more like an insult than a term of respect. "But just because you're a miserable, unfortunately rude man does not mean that I am going to allow you to ruin my breakfast. I, unlike _some_ people, can still enjoy something as simple and pure as delicious blackberry pancakes and you will not make me enjoy them any less by being an insufferable, sour...jerk!"

With that Hermione finished her pancakes, chewing obnoxiously loudly, and left the table in a huff of clattering cutlery and swirling black robes.

"Severus, I wanted you to train a replacement, not a clone," McGonagall said plaintively, her stern features looking rather strained.

"Well, the job attracts a certain sort of person, and if I am encouraging that sort of personality in Miss Granger than it is only because you bribed me into taking her on, Minerva." Snape smiled as he sipped his tea.

TBC...

So, short and sweet and rather late, but I got a new job a couple weeks ago and I'm working more hours than I'm used to, so cut me some slack. Just be happy that it's still summer: once September gets here I'll be too busy coping with being a college freshman to even think of this story or my beloved, devoted readers nearly as much as both deserve.


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for the reviews, and enjoy!!!!

Chapter 9

Hermione could not work. Previously she had not taken advantage to the availability of the private potions lab, in part out of little desire to brew her own potions, and in part out of genuine fear of getting in Snape's way. Well, now she cared little about whether or not Snape was irritated by her presence and she had decided that she wanted to brew a potion. So, she had gathered a few books and set herself up in the laboratory, carefully organizing and measuring out the ingredients that she required, arranging her cauldron (a medium-sized cast iron) and preparing herself to brew. She had decided to challenge herself with a potion she had never attempted out of one of her more advanced books: a shielding potion called the Aegisian potion. It was a potent potion which instilled it's drinker with protection against physical harm and most hexes, jinxes and minor curses. She thought if she could brew it properly perhaps she could alter it to make it stronger, possibly as a tool for Harry in his fight against Voldemort.

Hermione was completely prepared to begin the Aegisian potion, not to mention rather excited to see if she could pull it off, and then Snape had entered. He had sauntered in with the air of a man who very much expected to find himself alone. His features were smoother than Hermione had ever seen, his arms swung freely at his sides, and all over he seemed to exude a certain relaxation and confidence he generally did not show. At the sight of Hermione his face immediately resumed it's general scowl, he stilled his swinging hands into tightly clenched fists and his entire stance changed, assuming a position of guarded animosity and mistrust.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded abruptly, greasy hanks of hair swinging into his face. If Hermione hadn't known that he was an emotionally stunted bat of a man she might have thought he seemed embarrassed to be caught out looking so care-free.

"Brewing." She frowned at him in confusion. "You told me I was free to use the lab whenever I wanted, didn't you? Sir," she hastened to add. "Remember?"

"Oh." Snape's sallow cheeks turned slightly pink. Startled, Hermione realized he _was_ embarrassed that she had managed to catch him off his guard so. "That. Well, as you have disdained to make use of this facility previously, I assumed that you had no plans to."

It was Hermione's turn to look embarrassed. "Well, I sort of forgot about it, what with being so busy settling in and everything." She glanced down at her ingredients then forced herself to look up at Snape. "But I decided that I should make myself a bit more useful so I'm working on a potion for Harry."

"Potter, eh?" Snape smirked. "What is it, an intelligence potion?"

Hermione frowned, meeting his glittering black eyes. "Actually, _sir_, it's an Aegisian potion."

"Hm," Snape looked thoughtful. "Clever of you. But Aegisians don't protect against the Killing Curse, and that is surely the spell the Dark Lord intends to use."

"I know sir, I was hoping I could alter the potion somewhat, maybe improve upon it," Hermione nervously picked at her sleeve. "I don't think it will ever stand up against Unforgivables, but it might help Harry get close enough to curse You Know Who without getting jinxed himself."

"A reasonable thought," Snape nodded. Realizing that he had allowed himself to relax in Hermione's presence during this discussion he scowled once more and jerked his robes sharply as though to straighten them. "I don't care what you're up to, Miss Granger, as long as you stay out of my way and don't blow yourself–or more importantly the lab–up." With that he moved over to another work table which held three steaming cauldrons and he proceeded to ignore her.

Shrugging off the odd professor, Hermione attempted to ignore him in turn and continue with her own work. But she found that she could not. It was impossible to concentrate with Snape hovering a mere table away. Although he seemed absorbed in his own projects, Hermione could practically feel him observing her. He had, after all, been a spy for many years, which Hermione well knew. She would begin to chop some hawthorn root and feel him watching, judging the angle at which she cut them. When she strained dragon heart-string from it's preservative fluids she felt his eyes on her, considering how she disposed of the liquid. Finally, Hermione caught herself almost adding the wrong ingredient and she rounded on him.

"What?" She demanded harshly, forgetting that he was her superior and that she should probably be respectful. "I can feel you looking at me, and it's driving me mad. So, is there something you would like to say, or would you just like to continue ogling me behind my back? I can't think when you do that."

Gracefully arching one eyebrow and smirking slightly Snape abandoned his worktable and approached her. "Miss Granger, I am certain I have no idea what you mean. No matter what paranoid theory you might have dreamed up in your head I have absolutely no reason to be 'ogling' you." He was now right in front of Hermione, close enough that she could smell him, sandalwood and herbs. His black gaze met her brown, and she could see mirth in his eyes. "Now I am forced to wonder why _you _would think _I_ might be looking at you. Any particular reason?" He leaned in and Hermione drew in a sharp breath, her pulse increasing nervously. "Hm?"

"You're mad if you think I would even think about you at all," she protested feebly. "I know that you were watching me, professor, and it's very distracting. Stop." She wasn't sure if she was telling him to stop looking or to stop leaning towards her, his sharp gaze taking in every inch of her. She felt extremely uncomfortable, as though he could see everything about her, every ill thought and emotion laid out before him. In the pit of her stomach she felt a strange fluttering sensation, and she broke the intense eye-contact he had established.

"You know you really are very impertinent, Granger," Snape murmured, still unnervingly close. "If you were still a student I already would have taken away your house points and given you at least a weeks worth of detention."

Hermione opened her mouth to give some kind of rude reply, not exactly certain what she would say yet, and froze, gasping slightly. Her hands flew to her stomach, arms brushing against Snape's robes. She hadn't realized he had grown so close, but at the moment she couldn't care less. "Oh my god, what was that?" She exclaimed. Her eyes filled with wonder. "I think I just felt a kick!"

Snape leapt backwards, regarding her with a mixture of fear and revulsion. "What?"

"The baby! It just kicked me!" Her eyes glowed, not even seeing the man she was speaking to. "It kicked!"

"Do you want me to kick it back?" He asked sardonically, eyeing her stomach with distaste.

"What?" The excitement left her eyes and she regarded him with irritation. "Why the hell would I want that?"

"I don't know. Vengeance?" Snape now looked extremely uncomfortable.

"You're mad!" She accused.

"I don't like children, and babies are..." He was now backing away. "They're always screaming and vomiting. They're like uncontrollable pets, only worse."

"Make's perfect sense why you would become a teacher then," Hermione said derisively. A glint of triumph entered her eye. "Are you afraid of my stomach then?"

"What? I'm not afraid of anything, woman!" But Snape continued to back away. Experimentally, Hermione moved towards him, unconsciously mimicking what he had done to her moments ago. "Stop that!"

"Why? You're not afraid, after all," Hermione retorted, laughing a bit. "Go on, touch my stomach. I want you to feel the baby."

"Absolutely not!" Snape continued to back away.

"Do it!"

"No!" Snape whirled and fled the room. Hermione laughed at his retreating form.

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Severus cursed himself as he left the potions lab, not sure who he was more disgusted with: Granger for mocking him or himself for allowing it. It wasn't that the child she carried truly upset him so; no matter what his distaste for children he was not afraid of a kicking foetus. No, what had really gotten to Severus was the somewhat startling reminder that Granger was pregnant, and therefore not someone he ought to be trifling with. Whatever his interest in the girl might be, it was one thing to toy with a full-grown woman and quite another to toy with a full-grown woman with a person growing inside of her. It was actually rather disconcerting.

Severus, not knowing what else to do, retreated to his office. He knew that if he returned to his private rooms he would only resort to drinking, and it was far too early for that. As it was only about an hour after lunch on a Sunday he really had nothing to do but while away the time until dinner. He didn't even have any homework to grade; Granger had already gotten to all of it.

After staring at the jars of ingredients on his walls long enough to drive him mad with boredom, Severus rifled through the drawers of his desk and withdrew the stack of graded homework, deciding to go over Granger's work. The first parchment was the pathetic attempt to explain the multiple uses of salamander tongue written by a third-year. Glancing through it Severus snorted in derision. He would hardly credit the paper with a passing grade. Reaching the end of the paper, which had been scrawled on the back of the parchment, his eyes widened at Granger's verdict. She had graced to give the imbecilic child a B. Foolish, tender-hearted witch.

Tossing the parchment back onto it's stack, Severus decided that all he would accomplish in his office would be a headache and a strong desire to throttle Granger. He stormed out and into the corridors of Hogwarts, making his way to the nearest exit for a stroll through the grounds. Some fresh air would do him good.

Outside late March had brought the first hints of spring to the grounds. The snow that covered Hogwarts in winter had melted and the trees were beginning to sprout new, green leaves. The grass was also growing greener, and here and there Severus glimpsed the beginnings of flowers. Strolling around the lake, Severus gazed at it's clear, rippling surface and allowed himself to be lost in thought.

He should really be more careful around Granger. He had acted foolishly in the lab, first letting his guard down in front of her and later trying to get under her skin. Even if he had admitted to himself that he admired Granger, there was absolutely no reason why he should ever, _ever_ act upon those impulses. Trying would only open him up to disappointment and rejection, not to mention utter humiliation.

But he could not help but think the perhaps Granger had felt something as well. He had noticed her breathing pick up, the pulse in her delicate neck beating faster as he drew close to her. He had long ago trained himself to sense these slight nuances of human behavior. And, as he had leaned in ever closer, there was a moment right before she had grasped her stomach, where he could swear he had seen something in her eyes, some kind of bizarre exhilaration. Then she had gone and ruined it by reminding him of her condition. Honestly, things would just be so much simpler if Granger had never gone and gotten herself knocked up!

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It was even more difficult for Hermione to concentrate on her work after feeling the baby, but somehow she pulled herself together enough to get through putting it together and setting it to steep. It would have to slowly sit over heat for the next two weeks. Once she had finished she tidied up the lab, at least the parts of it that she had been using, then returned to her own rooms.

When she had collapsed into her couch with Crookshanks curled up and purring in her lap, Hermione could take the time to evaluate what had occurred. Snape had agitated her, that was obvious enough, but what was currently fascinating, and slightly horrifying, Hermione was the odd fluttering in the pit of her stomach just before she had felt the baby.

It would be easy to casually dismiss the flutter as the baby's movements, but Hermione had never been particularly skilled at lying, not even to herself. She had been feeling the baby's movements for quite some time now, and they tended to feel more...slithery in a way, as though there were a tiny fish in her belly. The kick had been rather different, more forceful and startling than the subtle movements of a spinning foetus, but none of it had exactly resembled the odd fluttering sensation.

Something nagging in Hermione's mind told her that she knew exactly what that fluttering meant, that she had felt it on several occasions in her life and that, if Professor Severus Snape was the cause of it she had completely lost her mind.

"D'you think it could've been gas, Crookshanks?" Hermione implored of the lazy cat. Crookshanks merely blinked at Hermione and purred even louder. She imagined him to be saying something along the lines of: _you damn well know what it means, so shut up and rub my belly_. This last was indicated by Crookshanks rolling over, exposing the softer, longer fur of his stomach. Hermione complied.

"It's not just the fact that any kind of feeling even remotely resembling..._that_ would be completely ridiculous and inappropriate towards Professor Snape, but I'm pregnant! I shouldn't be feeling _that_ about anyone! Right?" Crookshanks still had no answers, so Hermione sighed deeply and continued to pet him. "And even if the fact that I'm pregnant, not to mention getting fatter every day, weren't enough of a deterrent, I mean _come on_! It's Professor Snape! As though he would even look twice at me on my best day."

She sighed again, then sat up straight in irritation, disturbing Crookshanks' position and causing the cat to hiss feebly. "And why should I want him to anyway? He's rude, he's greasy, he's _evil_ and he's about twice my age. I must not be spending enough time in the company of normal wizards, that's all. It's natural for me to begin to imagine up feelings for the male I spend the most time around. I need to start going out more." Looking down at the bump of her stomach, Hermione smiled wryly. "As if I'm going anywhere with this thing," she snorted.

Hermione looked at Crookshanks, who was regarding her blankly. "Hell, look at me: talking to a cat. But you understand me, don't you Crooky?" Crookshanks blinked very slowly, happy cat drool dripping from his mouth as Hermione scratched behind his ears just the way she knew he loved. "My sweet boy." Hermione cuddled the large cat to her, burying her face in his fur. He shook his head, scattering drool all over her. "Ew. Don't worry, I know you're being nice in cat-speak. Thanks, Crooks."

There came a quiet tapping at the door. Hermione, who was not used to visitors to her chambers, gently deposited Crookshanks on the floor, ineffectually brushed off the long, ginger hairs that now covered her, and warily approached the door.

"Who is it?" She called nervously.

"Hermione it's me. Open up."

"Harry?" Hermione pulled the door open and beheld the somewhat bedraggled looking Harry. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Came to see you." Harry's eyes darted about, scanning the deserted hallway for any observers. "Can I come inside?"

"Of course, how rude of me," Hermione apologized, opening the door wider and standing back out of the way. "Come in, come in."

"Thanks." Harry smiled briefly, although it didn't quite reach his eyes, and strode into the sitting room. "This is pretty nice. Too bad it's in the dungeons though."

"I get a bit of light," Hermione told him, closing the door. "Let me get you a drink. Anything in particular?"

"I guess you wouldn't have any liquor, would you?" Harry grimaced.

"Obviously not," Hermione retorted tartly. "What the hell would I do with it? Stare at it and cry? I'll ask the elves to bring you some." Hermione went over to the fireplace and did just that. "Harry, not that I'm not thrilled at your company, but why are you here?"

"Well," Harry paused. A tray bearing a bottle of firewhisky and two ice-filled glasses popped out of the fireplace and settled it on Hermione's coffee table. "Brilliant." Harry grabbed one of the glasses and sloshed firewhisky into it, filling it to the brim. After downing a rather generous gulp, after which he gasped and spluttered most un-impressively for several moments, Harry continued. "Look, Ginny knows something's up. She doesn't know exactly what, yet, but she knows that I'm hiding something from her, something big. I want to tell her the truth."

"Harry, are you crazy? She'll kill you! She'll kill _me!_" Hermione grabbed the second ice-filled glass and, tapping it with her wand so that it filled with pumpkin juice. She downed some nervously, wishing she could feel the same pleasant burn Harry must have. "Look, Ginny's friendship is very important to me. You know I haven't got many friends, and I'd rather not have one of the few I've got hating me."

"How the hell do you think I feel?" Harry quipped, glaring at Hermione. "Ginny's my girlfriend! Or at least, kind of. She's the woman I planned to spend the rest of my life with! Even if we could always hide this from her, how could I look at her everyday, grow old with her, with this huge secret between us? It would eat at me." Harry's green eyes were filled with anguish. "Besides, what do you think the odds are that we'd be able to hide this forever? What if the kid looks like me, huh? There aren't too many people with eyes the same color as mine."

"I–" Hermione stopped and bit her lip, realizing she didn't know what to say.

"Just think, Hermione," Harry pleaded, setting down his glass and kneeling before her. "Wouldn't it be better for you to lose a friend, and me to lose the woman I love, rather than let this fester between us all? Because if we do that, we will lose her anyway. I can guarantee that." Hermione looked down at her hands, clasped over her stomach. "And I would be able to really be the kids father. Don't you want our baby to know who their father is?" Harry covered Hermione's clenched fingers with his own, larger hand.

"You know, before, I never thought about what it would be like for the baby," Hermione whispered. "Never having a dad around, never knowing who you were, or why you weren't there. But I felt it, Harry. I felt it kick me. It's not just some chunk of me, it's a person. Or at least it will be. A whole new person, with it's own thoughts and feelings. Why should the baby have to suffer in life because we were irresponsible?"

"You're not still worried I would make you two into a target?" Harry asked gently, squeezing Hermione's hands.

"We're at Hogwarts now." Hermione smiled at him, her eyes filled with tears. "What could get to us here?"

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Little did Hermione Granger know that at that very moment there was something, or rather someone, who could "get to" them. Severus Snape stood just outside in the hallway, ear pressed against the door to her chambers, hand clenched so tightly on the doorknob that his fingers were white. He had originally intended to speak for her, politely beg her pardon, and promise to be more civil in the future. However when he had heard voices, in particular one male voice, coming from her rooms he had been frozen in his tracks. Ever the spy, Severus had eavesdropped, not knowing what he hoped to gain from it. He had certainly never expected this.

Forcefully prying his grip away from the doorknob, Severus took a deep breath and retreated to his own sitting room to reflect on what he had heard. Invariably, he immediately poured himself a glass of scotch and plopped down onto his couch, glaring moodily at the flames in his fireplace.

"So, Potter's the father, is he?" Severus said quietly, tapping his glass with one pensive finger. He took a swig of his drink, sucking at it through clenched teeth. "How disgusting."

Clearly there was nothing romantic going on between Potter and the girl. He had heard enough to gather that the pregnancy had been a mistake, most likely coming of some one-time occurrence of which he wished to give little thought. Potter seemed more interested in the Weasley girl, keeping with what Severus had noticed at Ronald Weasley's wedding. That was really all for the best: even if there could be nothing between Granger and himself, Severus had little desire to see her traipsing happily about with Potter and Potter junior.

"Now there's a horrifying thought," Severus murmured to himself. "Not only will I have to teach some Gryffindor brat in eleven years, but it'll be a Potter." He scowled in irritation. "Stupid Granger, must've been drunk to–to..._breed_ with _him_."

Severus tossed back the rest of his drink and stood, wavering slightly. He opened his door slightly, deciding to wait until Potter left and find out if anything else of interest had transpired. Peering through the crack in his door, he saw that he didn't have to wait for long: Potter was already leaving. The two of them stood in Granger's doorway, talking quietly.

"So, I'll tell Ginny," Potter was saying to Granger behind him. "There's no reason for both of us to go through that, and I owe her much more of an explanation than you do."

"I feel like a coward, but I'm glad it won't be me," Granger murmured behind him.

"Well, I can't guarantee she won't confront you sooner or later," Potter warned. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Look Harry, I know that we need to tell Ginny: she _should_ know. But try to find a way too keep her from spreading it around too much. I really don't want a huge uproar over this right now; just think of what the Daily Prophet would do with this." Severus nodded, approving of Granger's sound thinking.

"I think you're right. Even if you are safe here at Hogwarts, there's no point taking risks. Although I doubt it'll be easy to get Ginny to agree with me," Potter whined.

"You'll convince her somehow," Granger said, all practicality. "And, Harry, don't let her storm off until you can at least try to talk things out with her a bit. She's got that Weasley temper and she'll probably just blow up and leave, but keep her with you and keep her talking as long as you can. It's the only thing that might come close to salvaging your relationship."

"Thanks Hermione." Potter smiled, but Severus thought it looked more like a grimace. "I'll let you know how things go, I guess."

"Good luck, Harry." Granger hugged Potter and gave him a peck on the cheek. Platonic though the gesture looked, Severus gritted his teeth and fought the urge to hurl his empty glass at Potter's head.

"By, Herms." Potter tried-and failed-to smile again and strode off down the corridor. Granger watched him for a moment, hands cupped beneath her stomach, before retreating into her rooms and gently closing the door behind her. Severus did the same.

"Well, this could get even more interesting," he said to himself, smiling evilly.

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The next day was Monday, and a return to regular hours. Hermione sat at the head table and ate her breakfast. If she were a bit more quiet and subdued than usual, none of her colleagues seemed to notice, except for Snape who was eyeing her with something approaching mocking glee.

"Mails here," Professor Flitwick remarked to no one in particular.

Hermione looked up to see owls flocking into the hall. One dropped a Daily Prophet into her lap before swooping away. About to unfold her paper, Hermione was startled as Harry's owl dropped in front of her and proffered a small note.

Accepting the letter, Hermione had enough time to glimpse a hastily scrawled "I AM SO SORRY!" before another owl had flown towards her and deposited a large, bright scarlet letter on Hermione's plate. The envelope began to smoke slightly, and Hermione grabbed it and, holding it at arms length, began to run from the head table and down an aisle, trying to leave the Great Hall before it exploded.

She didn't make it. Yards away from the door the letter burst open, singing Hermione's hand badly, and began to shriek in what was unmistakably Ginny Weasley's voice.

"YOU BITCH! YOU TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, BACKSTABBING SLUT! I'LL–" That was as much as anyone in the Great Hall heard because Hermione, blushing furiously, had grabbed the thrashing envelope and escaped the room, followed by the eyes of every member of the school and quite a few whispers.

Watching all of this, Severus Snape began to laugh.

TBC...

So, that's all for right now, and I hope you enjoyed it! This is the last chapter I'll be writing before college, because I'm leaving this Thursday!!!! Everyone wish me luck!!!


	10. Chapter 10

I'm lovin' the reviews, keep 'em up guys! Somebody said they didn't like how Snape laughed at poor Hermione at the end of the last chapter, but come on guys, that's the good stuff!! Snape's a mean old bastard, and that's why we love him so much. You can't just immediately make him and Hermione love each other, it has to grow slowly from loathing to actually liking each other. Although it would be nice, and much easier, if they could just fall into each others arms immediately, not to mention totes (totally) sexy :P

Hurray for double-digits!

Chapter 10

"YOU BITCH! YOU TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, BACKSTABBING SLUT! I'LL–" That was as much as anyone in the Great Hall heard because Hermione, blushing furiously, had grabbed the thrashing envelope and escaped the room, followed by the eyes of every member of the school and quite a few whispers.

"–NEVER, EVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS! NEVER!" Hermione ran down the corridor, clutching the writhing letter in both hands, ignoring the pain in her right hand where the howler had burned her, along with the few students still making their ways to the Great Hall.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? DID YOU EVER EVEN STOP TO THINK ABOUT ME AT ALL, OR WERE YOU TOO BUSY BEING A WHORE TO THINK OF ANYONE BUT YOURSELF? I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU, SPEAK TO YOU, OR HEAR FROM YOU EVER AGAIN, DO YOU HEAR ME? EVER! OH, AND DON'T WORRY, I WON'T TELL ANYONE WHAT I KNOW. YOU AND THAT FUCKING SON OF A BITCH HARRY ARE SAFE, FOR NOW AT LEAST!"

By the time that the howler had howled itself out, Hermione had reached her rooms and locked the door behind her. Finishing it's rant the letter burst into the flames, burning Hermione for a second time, and dissolved into ash which floated down to settle on her floor in a dark, black pile. Hermione leaned back against her door for several long moments, shuddering slightly. The tears that filled her eyes had little to do with her stinging hands.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," she moaned to herself. Looking down at her hands she saw that they were already bright red and blistered. And they hurt.

Hermione had little desire to leave her room. Although the part of the dungeons where Hermione's rooms, Snape's rooms, and the private lab were located was rather isolated from the rest of the castle, Hermione faced the idea of dealing with students right now rather bleakly. But it only took another glance at her swelling hands to convince her that at the moment, complete seclusion probably wasn't the best option. The burns were beyond her own skill of healing spells, so she decided that a trip to the Hospital Wing was probably in order.

Hermione pulled her door open with her slightly less burned left hand, wincing at the pain it caused her, and immediately jumped backwards, releasing a small shriek of surprise. There, in her doorway, stood Severus Snape, his hand raised as though he were about to knock on the now open door. He had also jumped slightly, startled, but had been quicker to recover his composure than Hermione.

"Miss Granger," he spoke coolly, straightening his robes. "I was just wondering if you would be present in my classroom today, after your little...incident at breakfast."

Hermione glared at Snape. "I hadn't really planned on it, sir," she stated acerbically. "Right now I was actually on my way to the Hospital Wing to deal with these." She thrust her peeling hands into his face. "So, it would be nice if you could move out of my doorway."

Snape seemed taken aback at her injuries. "What have you done to yourself?" He demanded. "You ought to know better than to hold an activated howler, you foolish girl! Come with me." And with that he grabbed Hermione's wrist and swept out of her doorway, dragging her with him.

Hermione didn't know what to expect under these circumstances, but it certainly wasn't what happened. Snape dragged Hermione across the corridor and into his own chambers, unlocking his door with a muttered announcement that it was, in fact, Professor Severus Snape. Snape proceeded to shove Hermione onto the empty couch in his sitting room before stalking off into one of the unseen parts of his chambers.

Hermione took the opportunity to look around. Snape's sitting room was much like her own in basic design, but it was slightly larger and decorated rather differently. As in her sitting room, Snape's couch faced his fireplace, but he had no coffee table, only a side table (which held several cut-crystal decanters of liquor and nice cut-crystal glasses) between the armrest of the couch and a large armchair with stood beside the couch at a perpendicular angle to it. Both the couch and the chair were covered in a deep brown, aged leather with dark mahogany supports. He also had several mahogany book-cases, all filled to over-flowing with leather-bound tomes ranging in topic from potions to Shakespeare's sonnets. Snape also had a slightly separated area behind his couch, as in Hermione's room, but rather than housing a set of table and chairs like hers, his held a large wooden desk and seemed to be piled high with various notebooks. Hermione assumed these were his teaching notes, as she had never seen any before. The walls held little decoration, but he did have a few small statues and oddments on top of his mantle-piece. The floor was covered in a rather fine antique Persian rug which Hermione wouldn't mind having herself.

Hermione took all of this in, not particularly surprised by anything she saw. Snape had a rather dark and Spartan personality, afterall. He enjoyed the small luxuries of comfortable couches and nice rugs, but couldn't be bothered with anything as unnecessary as actual decorations. Hermione wished she could have an opportunity to visit the rest of the suite, to analyze the way that her old professor lived and how it could be reflected in his personality, but by the time she had finished peering around the sitting room Snape had returned from what she assumed was his bathroom. He was carrying a glass jar of something and a small bundle of bandages.

"What's that?" Hermione asked as he seated himself in his armchair.

He sat at an angle so that he could face her straight-on. "It is a burn ointment of my own creation," Snape said. "It's not as fast as having Poppy poke you with her wand, but it feels a great deal better and leaves no scars." Snape set the bandages on the small table next to his couch along with the open bottle of ointment. Hermione had to admit that it smelled very pleasant: like lotion with a hint of lavender and other herbs and spices she couldn't name. "Give me your hands."

Without thinking Hermione held out her abused palms and allowed Snape to grasp them in his own, larger hands. Snape's touch was light and surprisingly gentle as he held first her left, then her right hand and gently smeared cream into them. As soon as the cream touched her skin Hermione's hands immediately felt cooler and less sore. Watching Snape smooth the ointment onto her palms, it took Hermione a moment to realize that she had forgotten to breathe as his warm hands grasped hers.

"There, isn't that better now?" Snape murmured, still rubbing her hands slowly.

Hermione bit her lip and nodded, uncomfortable with the odd intimacy of his hands on hers. "Yes, sir. It feels wonderful."

Snape glanced at her sharply, hearing something in her voice. Hermione tried to hide the fact that she was trembling slightly. "Miss Granger, are you alright?" He asked quietly, smoothing more ointment onto her fingers.

"Mm-hm," Hermione hummed, unable to meet his eyes.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" Snape gazed intently at her face. Hermione, trapped, looked into his black eyes.

She didn't know what she saw there, only that it both excited and terrified her. Her lips parted in a silent question, the breath hissing from her in a slight gasp. Snape stopped rubbing ointment into her burns but continued to hold her hands, his warm grasp firm yet oddly gentle. Without thinking, Hermione leaned forward until they're faces were only inches apart. She could feel his hot breath on her face.

"I should probably bandage your hands now." Snape broke eye contact, drawing back and looking instead at Hermione's hands which he still held in his own. "I should be getting to the class soon: I actually intend to do my job today."

Hermione blushed, stung both by his snide tone and by the way he had broken whatever strange trance she had fallen into. She bit her lip to avoid saying anything foolish and merely nodded in reply.

Neither of them spoke as Snape neatly wound the thin bandages over Hermione's hands. He moved with expert grace and neatness, his touch still gentle, but more clinical than anything. He covered every part of her palms with the cloth, cocooning them, and tied neat nots that were so tight Hermione thought she might have to cut through them to remove the bandages.

"Leave these on for the rest of the day. You can take them off before you go to sleep, and you should rinse your hands in warm, not hot, water. You should be fine by the morning," Snape spoke coldly, gracing her with neither the quiet intensity of before nor his usual snarkiness.

Hermione rose to leave and Snape followed her out the door, closing it securely behind them. As Hermione moved to retreat into her own chambers, Snape's voice drifted down to her from the end of the corridor.

"You should really be more careful with your hands, Miss Granger. A potions master is nothing without their hands."

"Yes, sir," Hermione managed to mumble before practically falling into her sitting room.

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Severus watched the students work, trying to focus his muddled thoughts on the lesson he was teaching. Lucky for him, the third year class of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had so far managed to avoid completely mangling their potions, although he still kept one eye pinned to the Hufflepuff side of the room. Try though he might, his buzzing mind would not be still.

Granger.

Hermione.

She had burned her hands. Her lovely, slender, delicate little hands.

Snape had touched them.

Touched her.

And she had looked at him, seen the emotions he had not been able to stifle before her, and she had held his gaze. Her breath had caught and she had leaned towards him. Severus wondered what might have happened had he not spoken, merely allowed her to slowly lean towards him, allowed her lips to perhaps brush his own...

Severus was glad he was sitting behind his desk.

But he, like a foolish, frightened child, had retreated. He had ripped his gaze from her lovely eyes, deep pools of brown with hints of red within them, and he _had _spoken. Best to forget this foolish speculation and focus on the reality, and the reality was that he had destroyed whatever frail thing they had held between them in that moment and he had bandaged her hands.

Trying to think of anything other than the way her hands had trembled so wonderfully in his grasp, Severus thought about the howler. Clearly Potter had told Ms. Weasley. Severus had to admire the boy for that, if nothing else; judging by what he had heard of the howler Potter probably had not escaped the encounter unscathed. Well the boy had backbone, and foolish Gryffindor "bravery" to help him.

Granger was brave too. Hermione was. Brave and foolish: she had grasped a burning letter in her hands, one screaming all kinds of invectives no doubt, and run through the halls of Hogwarts all to protect the identity of her baby.

God, Hermione was pregnant.

With Potter's child.

Severus, though rather fascinated with the whole situation, was sickened by it nonetheless. Even if, by some mad chance, the strange look they had shared had any substance to it, she was still bearing Potter's child. The whelp would probably look like the boy, probably have his eyes, his bottle-green eyes. Lily's eyes.

Lily.

Severus had avoided direct thoughts about her for quite some time, but in that instant every thought, every memory he had ever had of Lily, came rushing back to him. He remembered spying on Lily and her bitch of a sister, remember meeting them on the playground. He remembered quiet afternoons spent alone with Lily, and the day they had both ridden the Hogwarts express for the first time. He remembered his heart breaking when she was sorted to Gryffindor, and how it had broken anew when he heard the hat shout Slytherin.

Even at eleven years Severus had loved her. He had loved her the moment he saw her. Her lovely red hair, and bright green eyes, always alight with laughter and the calm sense of happiness of one who has always been well-loved. He could still see her skinny, childish frame, small hands always clutching desperately at books, always trying to learn everything. She was always so smart, always so clever. And he could see how that child's body had changed, grown into a beautiful woman.

Severus remembered how they had sustained their friendship for so long, through all the hardships of being in Slytherin and of growing up the odd, greasy-haired, underfed boy who lingered around a cauldron longer than was normal. He remembered his love growing for her, away from the simple purity of childhood and into the lustful, raging passion of his adolescent years. And how later, once she was gone, he had simply longed to see her again, to hold her in his arms one last time.

He remembered the Yule Ball of his seventh year, after they had grown so far apart, when she had worn that green gown, the same color as her eyes, and they had danced together as though their bodies were made for one another. He remembered how they had made love that night for the first and only time, how she had cried in his arms afterward. She felt that she had betrayed James, who loved her so dearly, who had pursued her so fiercely.

Severus had loved her too, had told her as much, and though Lily professed the same, it was James who truly held her heart. Severus had grown too distant, too strange, had been spending far too much time with the future Death Eaters, and Lily could never completely trusted him again.

They had never told anyone. Severus had not bragged the loss of his virginity to his Slytherin friends as some of them had to him, and Lily had agreed to marry Potter. And Severus had longed for her.

Potter, the new one, could have been Severus' child. They had the same hair color, the same skin tone, though Severus' was sallower from spending all his time indoors. Potter had Lily's eyes, after all, and he really looked much less like his father than most people claimed. If he had been born with a larger nose and had grown to a taller height he might have looked a bit like Severus.

And now Severus felt himself falling into the same position all over again. He didn't love Granger, he didn't know what he felt for her truly. But it was something, something he could no longer deny as madness or too much drink. And whatever it was, she felt it too. And, though she did not love Potter, she did carry his child. And he was now, most likely, without Ms. Weasley. Severus knew that Potter would make some kind of overture to Hermione, and he couldn't help but think she would accept. It would be the right thing to do for the child, the Gryffindor thing. A child should be raised by both parents, and Potter and Granger wouldn't make such bad ones at that.

But he couldn't imagine them together. Of course, the idea of Lily with James Potter still shocked him, but that was different. James had been smoother, more charming, and rather more clever than Harry was. And Lily, smart though she was, could never equal the brilliance Hermione clearly exhibited. Lily had been softer, more open and far more friendly than Granger seemed to be. There was something almost unconditional about Lily's ability to love others that few people had. Potter was more like her than his father, though Severus was loathe to admit it to himself.

All in all, Lily and James had not made such an odd pair. In truth, they made a great deal more sense than Severus and Lily ever could have. But Granger and Potter, though clearly great friends, did not complement each other the way a married couple should. Potter gave freely of himself, while Granger always held her innermost self in reserve. And, while a decent enough student in his day, Potter could never hope to emulate the shining light that was Granger's mind. He couldn't think of the two of them finding enough to discuss to spend the rest of their lives together without growing mad with boredom. And he had never seen that special spark between the two of them, which Lily and James had shown in disgusting abundance by the end of their seventh year.

Granger, too, was lost to him, and Severus should just accept that now before he let his feelings for her deepen. It was hard enough to be in love with one woman he could never have, but two might kill the man. Of course, it was easier to be without Lily when she was no longer a part of this world. Severus didn't know if he could survive loving a living woman and not being able to have her, not twice.

Severus would merely avoid intimate contact of any kind with the girl until he knew for certain what Potter would do.

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Hermione spent the rest of the day alone in her rooms, thinking about many things. She wondered how Ginny must be feeling, what Ginny had done to Harry, and she wondered about the strange connection between Snape and herself. Hermione was smart enough to realize that whatever peculiar thoughts and feelings she had been having about him seemed to be reciprocated, but she didn't know what to do.

The rational part of her mind wanted to shun these feelings, to avoid any contact beyond the bare, necessary minimum with him. But another, smaller part, wanted to pursue her feelings and see where they might lead. But a fluttering feeling from her stomach, which she imagined to be the baby back-flipping, reminded her that the only relationship she should be pursuing was with the person growing within her.

Just as Hermione had decided this, right around the time she would be having dinner in the Great Hall if she would leave her rooms, she heard a tapping coming from her bedroom window. Harry's owl was outside, a note tied to it's leg, impatiently pecking at the glass to be let in. Hermione struggled a bit with the catch, her bandaged hands annoyingly cumbersome, but feeling much better now than before. Eventually Hermione got the window open and the owl swooped in, allowed Hermione to untie the note it carried, and perched on one of her bed posts, watching Hermione with intent golden eyes.

The note read:

_Hey Hermione, I guess you must've gotten the howler by now. I heard her making it. I tried to stop her, but she hexed me and sent it anyway. I'm so sorry she did that, I tried to convince her that it was all my fault, but she just told me to go fuck myself and hexed me again. Then she hit me for a while and left. I don't know where she's gone, but I flooed Charlie and she hasn't gone home yet. I guess she needed some time to herself, or something. Well, wherever she's gone, I'm going after her. I don't care if she completely hates me now, or forever, but I have to try, you know? I really do love her, after all. So, if I disappear and my body's never found, you can tell people it was probably her, but that I completely deserved it anyway. So I might be out of touch for a while looking for her, but Godric should be able to find me._

_Harry._

_By the way, how do you remove a donkey-tail hex? Ginny's really stick when she's mad._

Hermione set the note down on her bed and grabbed some parchment to scribble the remedy on and to write Harry good luck tracking down Ginny.

"Come here, Godric," Hermione cooed gently. The owl glared at her in disdain, but held out it's leg for her to attach the note. Hermione suddenly remembered that the owl had been a Christmas gift from Ginny to Harry when it scratched her once it had the letter. It swooped out of the still open window and vanished into the night.

"Well," Hermione sighed to herself.

A knock came from the door to her sitting room and Hermione jumped. Thinking it might be Snape again, she warily made her way towards it and pulled it open without thinking, immediately taking a step back in apprehension.

"Hello Hermione," Ginny stated calmly.

TBC...

Hahaha, always leave 'em wanting more, that's what I always say. Review!!!


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